


Loyalty

by EmperorsVornskr, TheJudicator (EmperorsVornskr)



Series: Order [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: A Smol Deadly GF for Phasma, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Death, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, BDSM, Bloodplay, Canonical Child Abuse, Consensual Violence, Conspiracy, Cool Motive Still Murder You Guys, Disembowelment, Dissociation, Dom/sub, Don't copy to another site, Edging, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, GFYS, Gen, Give Rae Sloane a Wife 2k20, Graphic Violence, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Mild Transphobia, Minor Character Death, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Child Abuse, Pegging, Penetrative Sex, Power Bottom Hux, Protective Kylo Ren, Rimming, Slow Burn, Snoke Being a Dick, Torture, Trans Armitage Hux, Voyeurism, Wherein Hux is Actually 35 and Scary, canon defiant, there's a reason for my bullshit I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 121,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22647070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmperorsVornskr/pseuds/EmperorsVornskr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmperorsVornskr/pseuds/TheJudicator
Summary: Loyalty is something General Armitage Hux expects from his military, and those he deems worthy of close confidence. He has it all with the command of the First Order’s military, everything else to look forward to, with nothing but the Resistance in his way. That is, until Supreme Leader Snoke places Kylo Ren on the Finalizer, and Hux’s well ordered world turns upside down. Between learning to deal with a volatile Knight of Ren- and the growing tension between them- Hux also learns he’s not the only one with personal agendas. His own loyalty to his very beliefs and command are put to the test, when those most loyal to him become targets of misfortune, and he has to decide just how firm a grip he wants to keep on the First Order as its most powerful officer, all while dealing with a powerful, but badly damaged Master of the Knights of Ren.
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Phasma, Armitage Hux's Mother/Maratelle Hux, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Jorj Car'das/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Mara Jade/Talon Karrde, Phasma (Star Wars)/Original Female Character(s), Rae Sloane/Original Character(s)
Series: Order [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629148
Comments: 22
Kudos: 61





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This is up for good! TLJ/ROS squashed me for a while, so I pulled this down, polished it up, and reposted it! Now I can work on the sequel, Treason, which is NOT canon compliant at all and is purely fanservice/"Canon, don't know her."
> 
> I'm enabling anonymous commenting, but I will turn it off if people can't play nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not consent to this work or any of my work being uploaded or displayed through third party apps and websites. If you are viewing this work through an app that makes money from advertisements- especially Fanfiction Pocket and Woodsign- please close the app and view my work for free on the original Ao3 page. Ao3 provides the option to download fanfics for offline reading in EPUB, PDF, AZW3, MOBI and HTML formats for free- without ads or pressure to pay subscription fees for something that is ALREADY FREE! Please don't let third parties make money off my work and Ao3's service to fandom creativity!

**Media:**

I made the following playlists if you're interested-

[Kylo Ren](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5cfFJtJySw5giIXb4iMO0l?si=swR7nIofSgiuns8XCE8kAw)

[General Hux](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Gcia0KHxepjsDsdmW0kPy?si=gcUdY2myTXOp2HsZdFu81w)

[Loyalty](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1UtbftWoY2w6qQ7t7YqvvP?si=EqLTkuqxRPS7EumLfJY7Bw)

**Art:** Thank you to the wonderful, talented artists who spent time on these pieces!

[Hux playing his cello](https://66.media.tumblr.com/b4b318c05aacddd070468cb49cf83531/tumblr_o6j1q0Zm8h1v5n30vo1_500.png) by Crepycrepyspacewizard

[Hux and Angelica Mourning Carise](https://66.media.tumblr.com/661ddd093aa3fe3bcfae88520b93915e/tumblr_o5711han3M1qcf64vo1_500.jpg) by SillySyra

[Hux spying on Kylo via Holo](https://66.media.tumblr.com/90c0608a575ce05220079254f3bd2d0e/tumblr_o40i6h5Ni51v5n30vo1_500.png) by Crepycrepyspacewizard and rex-magnus

[Kylo Protecting Hux](https://schaloime.tumblr.com/post/141153482186/commission-for-ernperorhux-a-very-dramatic) by Schaloime

[Hux contemplating his future](https://ariel-draws.tumblr.com/post/138938539210) by Ariel-Draws

> _It starts with bloodshed, always bloodshed, always the same running from something larger than yourself story, shoving money into the jaws of a suitcase, cutting your hair with a steak knife at a rest stop, and you’re off, you’re on the run, a fugitive driving away from something shameful and half-remembered._
> 
> _\- Richard Siken, “Driving, Not Washing”_

The sentinel had told Sloane the trip would be long. The replica _Imperialis_ was well stocked for the trip, with more than ample supplies to keep her, Hux and the children fed, and even her pain at bay. Clearly, the Emperor had known well ahead of time how long this trip would be- that, or Rax had known it would be long, and that there would be hungry children of various ages, some hitting puberty on board, and that the extra provisions would be necessary.

Neither of them would have counted on the loneliness, however. Emperor Palpatine had no need of company, and Rax would have delighted in the sycophantic tirades of Hux and the blind, silent fawning of the ever watchful children- when he wasn’t in his quarters with his damned operas and cantatas.

Sloane wasn’t either of them. She kept away from Hux because she hated him. She hated how slovenly he was, how he reminded her of how her Empire had gone from the epitome of order, to chaos, to nothing. She hated how he watched her every move with those shrewd, pinched eyes of his, his mood shifting between silent, hateful treachery and abject terror if he thought she was going to beat the hate from him again. His presence made her miss the lost figureheads who would have kept order, who would have known what to do now- who could have been allies and even enjoyable company in this mess. Tarkin, Motti, Yularen, all dead after Yavin. Veers, retired and adamant about it. And Thrawn, missing since the Siege of Lothal…. It was just herself. Herself, in a ship containing a slovenly enemy, brainwashed feral children, and one small, unexpected ally.

She kept away from the children because they terrified her, though she wouldn’t let her fear show on the surface. None were older than thirteen, but all were primed killers who had dispatched a unit of Stormtroopers with nothing more than knives hobbled together from broken handles, tape and primitive blades, with the efficiency of a Loyalty Officer, and the precision of a Cipher Agent.

And those feral children only responded to a five- almost six- year old slip of a child with bright red hair, grey green eyes and a soft pale face dusted with freckles. A child with a thin frame that, at first, had trembled slightly when giving orders to the others, seeming to shrink in his uniform- a tiny imitation of what could only be Grand Moff Tarkin’s uniform, sans the rank insignia plaque and code cylinders.

The idea occurred to her as she watched the children follow him- physically, or with their eyes- waiting for orders. Later, while tending to her wounds- the brutalised ribs that refused to heal, and the fingers Rax had broken, which were healing nicely- she polished the idea, and decided it sound.

She’d approached him after witnessing how he’d trembled and balked when his father came close, and how the children had stood by, waiting for the red haired boy to command them. She’d offered a deal that would benefit them both, and he’d agreed- that he would order the children to leave her alone- even listen to her if she commanded them. In return, she promised to protect him from his horrible father. The semblance of security had them both feeling a bit more at ease, and for the young boy, it showed.

Now, Armitage Hux no longer shrank in his uniform as he ordered his troops during lessons. He stood tall, shoulders squared and head held high as he assumed a stance of command that would have been perfectly at home on the command bridge of a Star Destroyer. In fact, he almost seemed to lean hungrily into the stance, a flash of enjoyment in his young eyes as he gave out his orders. He was relishing being the one in control for once, and Sloane could see the way his eyes flicked towards his father, triumphant defiance flashing in his gaze.

It made her smile in satisfaction, but not without a pang of anger. She’d been right about the boy. His father abused him. She suspected the abuse was mental and physical, and the reasons were obvious - Armitage was illegitimate and a tiny scrap of a boy that no Imperial legacy die-hard would be keen on cultivating as an heir. The look on the boy’s face, the way he relished having control over what had once been his father’s greatest offering to the Contingency of the Empire, spoke measures. There a streak of cruelty growing in the boy who until now, had been helpless.

It didn’t make him invulnerable, however, and the agreement they had made didn’t make either of them fear the shadows any less- Sloane fearing those of the children, Armitage fearing that of his father.

It also did nothing to ease the loneliness she felt, and did nothing for the need Armitage had as a young child- for the compassion and companionship of a caring guardian. After all, Sloane had extracted only him and his father- she’d learnt later that Armitage’s mother had been on Arkanis, and Rax had not mentioned her. Likely on purpose, Sloane figured- giving an abused child no other place to turn but himself by cutting his mother out of the picture was a perfect way to gain his trust and loyalty.

However, it was Sloane who was that pivotal point, not Rax, and they mutually had need of each other. Naturally, unconsciously, they gravitated towards each other in a course as unavoidable as the plummet of the _Ravager_ and the _Concorde_ through the atmosphere of Jakku.

It was small things at first. The young boy asked to sit beside her as she worked on going over datapads, ending up leaning against her, falling asleep. Taking his meals with her, choosing to exercise with her instead of the other children unless endeavouring to impress his father. Asking her questions about the Empire and those she worked with- especially Tarkin. The boy seemed to idolise the deceased Grand Moff. He especially liked Tarkin’s memoirs of his childhood spent in the wilds of Eriadu, hunting and killing dangerous predators. He also asked about Grand Admiral Thrawn, and seemed disappointed when Sloane didn’t have much to tell him about the famed tactical genius.

She did, however, share stories about Lord Vidian and how she had learnt to deal with civilians to further her career, and how loyalty to the Empire was what earned her the white uniform of a Grand Admiral. She told him about what she’d known of the Emperor, and his advisers, and from there, stories about the Sith and the Force- though she wasn’t shy about her disdain for it all, especially when she recounted her misadventures with Kanan Jarrus, who for a time, had been her personal pain in the ass. He asked about Vader, and Sloane told him of her few encounters, of his capricious temper, and how she was grateful her experience with the Dark Lord had been minimal.

When he pressed more about the leaders of the former Empire, she told him about Colonel Yularen, the short-comings of Governor Pryce, and lastly, the intimidating Loyalty Officers- the most notorious of them being Jorj Car’das, who was rumoured to be the closest contact with Thrawn, a direct agent of the Emperor himself even before he became Emperor, and how his very presence made one’s blood run cold. When he wasn’t running his smuggling ring, that is.

Armitage listened to them all with rapt attention, and in time, when he felt safer with her, and when she’d started to relax around him, he’d lean against her as she told the stories, his datapad forgotten in his lap, his freckled cheek resting against the white cloth of her tunic. He sought out her company often, and Sloane suspected he was seeing her as a mentor, if not a maternal figure.

Sloane didn’t mind his company in the slightest. She enjoyed it, in fact. Armitage was an intelligent boy, full of curiosity and hungry for knowledge. He grasped concepts quickly, especially anything relating to tactics, technology, engineering, politics and social structures. When they uncovered the original designs for the TIE Defender in the _Imperalis’_ library one evening, Armitage had been beside himself with glee, and had poured over them for hours, falling asleep with the datapad in his hands, slumping into Sloane’s lap.

Sloane, too tired, and in too much pain from her wound to move much, had gently pried the datapad from his small hands, set it aside, and carefully nudged him until he was half awake. Then, she guided him from her study to her room, and pulled back the blankets on her bed, telling the practically-sleepwalking boy to take off his shoes as she shed her tunic and pants, down to her camisole and shorts.

Armitage obliged, and without a word, Sloane pulled him into bed, letting the exhausted boy snuggle close. She was careful to keep him from prodding her ruined ribs, but his slight frame fit neatly in her arms as he curled up under her chin. She pulled the blankets over them both, and a slight shudder ran through him as Sloane wrapped her arms around him. One of his hands reached out and fingers curled in the fabric of her shirt, his face pressing against her chest, nose bumping under her collarbone.

Sloane felt herself shudder, too, as she realised they both had been starved for human touch, for affection and safety, for comfort and security. She tightened her arms around Armitage Hux, a silent promise roaring in her heart, burning like fire. She had promised him she would keep his father from ever hurting him again, and she meant it. She had demanded Brendol teach Armitage everything he knew, and would make sure it happened. She hadn’t been sure of why this desire was so foremost in her mind, but it occurred to her now that they needed each other.

Armitage Hux was the future of the new Empire. Rae Sloane was the new figurehead, the new leader, but she couldn’t- wouldn’t live forever. She had no wife, no husband, no child to speak of to pass on her legacy to. She did, however, have the young boy in her arms that clung to her, trusting her, nestling close and letting out a long, shaky breath as the tension melted from him and he drank in her warm presence.

Sloane ran her fingers through Armitage’s soft red hair. Brendol had wasted his opportunity with this boy. She’d seen the intelligence, the opportunist in him, the eagerness to learn and lead. She would take him under her wing, as her successor. Her heir. Perhaps, she mused, maybe even something of an adopted son. It was a warm, sleep induced thought, admitting that in the past few months, she was growing fond of the boy, but still a thought to mull over, nonetheless.

“Sleep, Armitage,” she murmured, when he let out a soft cry, stirring from a bad dream. “I promised I wouldn’t let him hurt you ever again, and I meant it.”

The boy fell silent again, pressing his face into her bosom, and soon was deeply asleep. Sloane kissed the top of his head, feeling mildly odd as she did so- odd, but good- then closed her eyes. Sleep took her, and for the first time in months- years, in fact, for both woman and child- the two weary travellers slumbered restfully in the comfortable company of one another as the _Imperialis_ slid through the Unknown Regions towards their destiny.

——

Sloane had been expecting the _Eclipse_ to hail the _Imperialis_ when it came close, ready to dock with the Super Star Destroyer. She had found a set of whites in a closet that fit perfectly, and it made her skin crawl, because Rax had expected her to be here, even now. He had expected, planned, hoped she would be at his side.

 _I am the Imperator in this scenario. This is **MY** Empire,_ she thought brusquely, squaring her shoulders and gazing at her reflection. She fought back the grimace of pain as the soft spot in her ribs shifted.

She strolled to the cockpit and gazed out the viewport. Outside, the elegant, intimidating silhouette of the _Eclipse_ was framed against the beautiful nebula where it had been waiting for years. The rest of the Imperial Remnant’s fleet- Venator and Imperial Class Star Destroyers- flanked it in perfect, well practised formation. It gave Sloane hope. She approached the comms, all but ignoring the Sentinel, and readied to hail the _Eclipse-_ when she noticed the droid had turned its awful holographic face to her, motioning to the telltale of an incoming message.

“The _Stormhawk_ is hailing you,” the Sentinel said simply.

“The _Stormhawk_?” she echoed, confused. “What about the _Eclipse_?”

The Sentinel made no reply. Clearly, there was an order to what had to be done, and to whom she had to speak to- plans had changed outside the droid’s programming.

Irritated, Sloane opened the frequency, and keyed on the holo display. As she did so, she finally saw the other ship, and she felt apprehension as she realised she did not recognise the make of it- she’d never seen anything of the like before. Yet, as she watched the alien warship idle between her ship and the _Eclipse,_ she felt that the ship was old, and very, very important- the escort of equally unfamiliar and alien starfighters flanking it in precise formation, and the two cruisers behind it made her think of the escort convoy afforded to diplomats, or royalty.

“This is Grand Admiral Rae Sloane of the Imperial Remnant,” she said, her voice calm, cool and in control, despite her misgivings.

She faltered as a woman’s face appeared on the display that was humanoid, but not human- ice blue skin, shimmering, blue black hair, and glowing red eyes. Her face was elegant, but neutral, almost to the point of cold disdain, and Sloane could not discern her age- her face was smooth, almost youthful, but the lift in her chin and the set of her eyes spoke of experience not easily possessed by someone young. Her black hair was pulled into a tight elegant knot at the back of her head, and filigree jewellery adorned her forehead. She wore a high necked crimson tunic edged with gold and a darker red capelet- simple, but very elegant.

It wasn’t the woman’s species that gave her pause- Sloane knew of Chiss. She’d met Grand Admiral Thrawn, and knew of his people, had met the glowing gaze of the proud man and not flinched away, earning his respect.

It was the familiar features that had Sloane pausing. She had seen those high and sharp, almost cruel cheekbones set in a similarly long elegant face with its stubborn chin, the cold intelligent eyes, the hooded brows and the long narrow nose. Aside from a wider, fuller mouth and a softer, gentler jawline, the face looking back at her could have easily been a softer, feminine cast of Grand Admiral Thrawn. Sloane knew without a doubt that she was looking at one of his relatives. A cousin? Niece? Younger sister? ….Daughter?

“Grand Admiral Rae Sloane,” the woman greeted in heavily accented Basic, her full lips sounding the name out.

”We have been awaiting your arrival for some time now. I am Aristocra Mitth’ail’inrokini, and on behalf of the Chiss Ascendancy and the Eighth Ruling Family, I greet you.”


	2. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloane and Armitage work through growing pains- The Order's, and Armitage's. Sloane refreshes Brendol's memory on their "agreement."

Armitage looked up from his work as Sloane came into the study- or rather, the conference room that had been converted into a study hall. The smallest of private smiles spread over his lips, and she rested a hand on his shoulder for the briefest of moments to give it a gentle squeeze before continuing to the seat beside him, settling into it as gracefully as a monarch into their throne. 

“We finally have permission from the Ascendancy to claim a small section of territory that isn’t fully scouted or under official Expansionary Defence Force jurisdiction,” she said without preamble, and the thirteen year old Armitage felt his chest swell with pride that she came to him with updates on her work. 

“Does that mean we’ll be able to finally build ships?” he asked, setting his stylus down. Sloane nodded, returning the small private smile. 

“And thanks to supporters back in the Core, we’ll soon have fighters, recruits, materials, and goods,” she replied. “Our high ranked Centrist supporters are doing well to work discord into the Senate.”

“Lady Carise?” Hux snorted with a bit of contempt. “She only cares for titles and little else.”

He’d read the dossiers on their Centrist allies, and he’d not been impressed with Lady Carise Sindian, especially given her greedy grabs for acclaim and status that had little to do with securing assets for the First Order. Sloane gave him a mildly indulgent smile, amused with his assessment. 

“True enough,” she relented. “But she is powerful, given those grabs she’s made, and she has powerful allies in the Core as well as the Fringe. If all goes well, Hadrassian will be delivering us quite the payload of much needed tech, manpower and weapons.”

She levelled a look at Armitage. It was about time she gave him the news.

“She’s also a close friend of your mother.”

That got the boy’s attention. He looked back up with wide eyes, blinking. 

“The General told me my mother died on Arkanis during the siege that you had us rescued from,” he said curiously, his tone edged with suspicion, though not aimed at Sloane, who winced in any case. After all, she was the one who hired Mercurial Swift to extract the boy and his father from the Academy.

“Rax told me only you and your father mattered, that your mother and step-mother were expendable. However,” she said quickly, seeing the look on her ward’s face, “I have arranged for protection for them both. Lady Carise is the reason your mother and step-mother live.”

Her gaze hardened. 

“That is why Lady Carise, despite her greed for power, is important.”

Armitage nodded, understanding. He hesitated.

“Will I ever be able to see her again? Or Lady Maratelle? She wasn’t as loving as my mother, but she wasn’t cruel. Just….” He struggled for the right phrase. “Kind, but distant.”

“Hopefully. I will try to make it happen,” Sloane promised. “For now, we must build the foundations of the First Order- and part of that, is training you, my dear boy.”

Another long pause. Armitage was clearly considering something she’d said, and his grey-green narrowed as he looked up at her. Sloane knew That Look, and prepared herself for a question that she’d have difficulty answering. 

“Out with it, then,” she sighed affectionately. Armitage gave her a half smile. 

“Lady Maratelle… she was unofficially my step mother. She didn’t get along with the Commandant. She was always nice to me, but I didn’t see her much…and she’s with my mother now?” he began. 

“Yes,” Sloane replied. So this is what he was asking. He was curious about the real circumstances of his mother- and perhaps his birth. 

“Does she love my mother, then? How does _he_ fit into this?”

Sloane rose from her chair and circled the table to place a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to be closer to his ear. 

“Yes,” she said softly. “Your mother and Lady Maratelle are very much in love, but cannot do much else but live together, as your father will not annul his marriage.”

“So… how did… if my mother and step-mother prefer each other, how did…” he waved his hand, unable to word it politely. 

Sloane didn’t flinch. He knew about sex and reproduction- Sloane made sure his education on natural things were easily and readily available. She’d never thought that she’d give the sex talk to an adoptive son, let alone have the puberty talk again when it turned out her ward was transgender. She hadn’t even guessed until they’d had the puberty talk and Armitage had all but begged her to help him prevent that catastrophe from happening. She’d been surprised, because honestly, how had she missed _that,_ but the final piece of the picture of why Brendol hated his son had fallen into place, and she’d be damned if she was going to let Armitage suffer like that.

She hoped that she had done him justice, and promised she would continue to be as supportive as he needed. His father never would, and that alone would have driven Sloane to care for him, but genuine affection for the boy turned her care from ‘Doing what was right’ to ‘Doing whatever could be done to make him safe and happy.’ 

That included literally beating his father into submission to sign over legal guardianship of the boy to her, because the Commandant wasn’t keen on letting his child go on puberty blockers and hormones. He simply didn’t believe Armitage would ever be what he thought a Hux man should be- the only reason Brendol called Armitage by his chosen name was because a bastard son was better than a bastard daughter. Sloane had beaten custody out of him, officially adopted Armitage, and took full responsibility for him. She didn’t regret it in the slightest- after all, she had no spouse, no children of her own. Armitage continued making her proud to call him her son.

Except for a few times where he _terrified_ her, where he showed everyone the cruel, reactive side his childhood trauma had created, and that side manifested itself in ways that made her genuinely worried about him. It also resulted in Brendol receiving many more beatings when she found out he was responsible for those awful situations that resulted in Armitage reacting- and defending himself- the way he did. She had tried her best to keep Armitage from being alone with Brendol after that- or at least not without herself or a trusted officer there to protect him. 

Sloane shook off the dark thoughts and lifted a brow at her son.

“You mean how did your father stand a chance at seducing and siring a child with such classy and beautiful women?” she quipped with a smirk.

Armitage laughed.

“Yes.”

“Lady Maratelle was the one who had the affair with Angelica Varrin, not Brendol. He found out, however, and threatened to have Angelica shipped out to Kessel. Angelica herself was the one who suggested to let herself get with child. Lady Maratelle, sadly, is infertile, and cannot bear to be touched by men,” Sloane said carefully, gently.

“The agreement was that if Angelica became with child, both Maratelle and Brendol could enjoy company of others, while keeping up the appearance of being married. Brendol agreed, and Angelica had you.”

“And since I wasn’t… Since I was...” Armitage began, unable to finish, his fingers curling into his palms. 

Sloane knelt by his chair and pulled him against her chest. She stroked his hair- as best she could, given the pomade- and rubbed his back in small circles. 

“I wasn’t what he wanted,” he finally finished, muffled. “She didn’t give him what he wanted, so he left them both to die during the siege. Why did he take me, then? To hurt them?”

Sloane pulled back and wiped gently at the tears smeared over Armitage’s face. His freckled cheeks were flushed, not from crying, but from holding back the tears as best he could- and from anger. A moment later, his face went cold and unreadable, and Sloane knew he’d cut himself off. During the seven years they’d spent on the edge of Chiss space, and during his training and education, Armitage had developed the ability to completely detach himself from his emotions, to go completely and utterly empty of anything but cold disinterest. A defence mechanism to hide his emotions from his tormentors- his father and the Old Guard Imperials of the Remnant that mocked the small slender boy, and his rivals in the Academy program- and it had become second nature.

When he slid that mask onto his face, he looked as distant, aloof, yet dangerous as any Chiss with their somewhat alien features. It unnerved Sloane, but impressed her at the same time with the utter level of control over himself that he’d mastered at only thirteen years old. He’d come a long way from the small skittish five year old in the Imperialis on Jakku, shaking in abject terror as his world changed and exploded around him.

“Rax ordered you to be saved, because the Empire needed- the First Order needs- children,” she said softly, watching in mildly astonished fascination as the flush faded from his cheeks, his emotional shut down complete, and his face devoid of feeling- save for the cold glittering of his sharp eyes. 

“It was also because despite the circumstances of your birth, you’re his child. You’re of good military stock, intelligent blood, and are the future of our Order, Armitage.”

She corrected herself.

“You’re _my_ son, now. You’re what I want, Armitage. A brilliant, passionate, and handsome boy I’m proud to call my son, and _damn_ the man who sired you. Blood isn’t always what makes a family. It’s acceptance, patience, compassion and love. It’s people who care about you, encourage you, and are by your side. Your mothers- because yes, Lady Maratelle loved you as her own- love you still. Even if they’re not here, they’re your family, too, because they want the best for you, and want you to succeed, even if it means they can’t be with you.”

She caressed his cheek before pressing her full lips to his forehead, hugging him tightly.

“You are wanted. Forget that slob of a man, Armitage Hux. You have three fierce mothers who will make sure you know how special you are, and that you ascend to your rightful place as the leader of the new Order we will rebuild from the ashes of the Empire.”

Armitage held tightly to her a few more minutes, the tension draining from him as he drank in her words, and understood that she was right. Who needed a cruel man like Brendol when he had wonderful women like his mothers to support him? He finally let go, looking much more composed, and his face had become slightly more human than mask, back to his ordered self.

“Thank you, Mother,” he said quietly, and Sloane felt her heart skip a beat. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d called her Mother, but it always made her slightly giddy. She straightened up, smoothing her tunic down, and her son- _my son_ \- picked up the tactical conversation from where they’d left off.

“Will we be meeting with the Ascendancy again soon?”

Sloane shook her head. 

“There was a great deal of resistance from the Chaf Family in accepting our request for territory to build a shipyard. The Mitth family offered support, as did the Imperial Liaison that Thrawn had sent- Eli Vanto. Mitth offered to allow an allotment of raw materials and tools to start the building, but Chaf was not keen on it.”

“Why not?” Armitage asked. 

“Complications from the first encounter with the Separatists and the Galactic Republic that nearly caused a civil war in the Ascendancy, if I understand correctly,” Sloane told him. “Chiss politics are very intricate and complicated.”

“But we have permission now, right? We can start building new ships?” Damn, the boy was persistent, wasn’t he? 

“Permission, yes. The actual territory? Not as of yet. The Ruling Families must decide and agree on where is the most suited to all parties,” Sloane replied, pulling drinks from the small cooler against the wall and sitting across from Armitage. 

He frowned.

“It’s been over seven years and I still don’t understand Chiss politics,” he groused. 

Sloane laughed.

“I don’t either. That’s why I’m glad we have Vanto helping us. We’re very lucky Thrawn sent him to the Ascendancy.”

“And Aristocra Thailin?” Armitage asked, and Rae flushed at the boy’s impish smile. 

So he’d noticed that she was becoming rather fond of the beautiful, very powerful and even more capable Chiss Aristocra. Damn the boy and his observant mind- she was teaching him _too_ well, it seemed.

“Ah, yes. Her, too, of course.”

She slid one of the drinks to him, and he nodded his thanks, drinking as he looked back down at his studies. He was poring over the preliminary designs for the new battlecruisers the First Order would build: The Resurgent Class. Bigger, more advanced, and more powerful than the Imperial Class. Sloane smiled as she saw what he was studying. 

“They will be beautiful ships,” she said quietly. “Almost as beautiful as my beloved _Ravager._ ”

“They will be better,” Armitage replied fervently. “Look at the changes made to the bridge structure and location.”

He pushed the datapad to her and she put a white gloved finger to her full lips, studying the display. The bridge tower was lower, wider, far less exposed than that of Venator and Imperial class Star Destroyers. Armitage reached over and tapped a key. 

“And there’s a secondary bridge, for emergency use, built into the midsection,” he said. 

Sloane’s eyes widened slightly. This was a very new change.

“When was this decided?” she asked. “Not that I’m complaining, this is… well, I’m surprised this infrastructure wasn’t implemented long ago in Imperial ships. Who came up with this?”

Armitage flushed all the way to the roots of his hair. 

“It was decided while you were with the Ruling Families,” he said. “And… it was my proposal. I noticed it was common practise with Chiss command ships, and it looked more sound, more practical than the design on the Venator and Imperial class destroyers. It made more sense to take inspiration from their design, especially after how vulnerable the other design proved to be. The command tower of a destroyer was taken out by a single errant starfighter during the siege of Lothal.”

Sloane smiled fondly at her son. 

“Very true, though part of that, if I recall correctly, was the fact that the pilot was an idiot who fell for the trap of that legendary pain in the ass known as Hera Syndulla- and he didn’t listen when Thrawn told him to pull back,” she said with amusement. “I shouldn’t be surprised- I’m not, actually, that you came up with the idea. I’m surprised, however, that Brendol conceded it was a good idea.”

His face fell. 

“He’s saying it was his concept. He went through my datacards before the engineering board had their revision meeting, and presented it,” he mumbled. 

Sloane stood up so quickly that the chair shot out behind her and hit the bulkhead. Armitage, to his credit, didn’t flinch, but looked up at her with surprise. 

“This again. The man cannot take credit for everything because he has no love for you. I won’t have it. I _told him,_ ” she seethed.

“Did you use the marks I suggested?” she asked. Armitage nodded. 

Sloane set her jaw, and left the room, Armitage staring after her, but knowing better than to follow. He did, however, look forward to seeing how Brendol would look after Sloane got a hold of him.

——

Sloane approached Brendol Hux, seeing him surrounded by techs and engineers as they went over plans on a conference table. The engineers were talking animatedly, and Hux looked as smug and self important as Sloane had ever seen him. Which, she thought sourly, he didn’t have any right to, given his uniform was ill-fitting again and his beard not within regulations. 

“Ah, Grand Admiral Sloane,” he said, offering a mildly sloppy salute that only further incensed her anger. “We’re going over new revisions of the Resurgent Class Battlecruiser plans. Excellent timing, as your input would be appreciated.”

His tone, and the curl of his lip under his moustache said otherwise. He wasn’t happy to see her. Good. This sycophantic simpering would only make beating him more enjoyable. 

_Check the plans, first. Catch him in the act, or you’ll just look like a violent brute._

“Is that so? Let me see, then,” she said lightly, stretching out a hand. “Your datapad?”

Hux paused, a different datapad in his hand, his own still in front of him, but went on to proffer the extra to her. Sloane narrowed her eyes.

“ _Your_ datapad?” she repeated. “I’d like to see the original, please.”

Hux looked at her suspiciously, but couldn’t argue, not in front of subordinates. He set the extra down and handed his own to her. 

“Much obliged,” Sloane said pleasantly, flicking it on and going over the plans contained in the datacard within. 

The meeting room was quiet as she examined the plans. Not because everyone was waiting to hear her opinion, no, she wasn’t tech inclined and her opinion warranted little merit. The room had gone quiet because Hux had gone stiff, his face a shade paler under his beard. From her peripheral vision, Sloane saw the perspiration rising in his hairline, and she pursed her lips in a twisted smirk as her eyes fell on the tiny little tell-tale mark hidden just under a diagram for the secondary bridge Armitage had designed. 

“You designed this, did you, Commandant?” 

Hux stiffened, but it was so slight that no one would have noticed- if they hadn’t been looking for just such a reaction. 

“Do you mean to insult my intelligence, Grand Admiral?” he growled. 

Sloane raised her brows.

“No, I mean to praise Armitage’s intelligence, as this is _his_ design, _his_ idea. Not. Yours.”

“What does _he_ have to do with this?” Hux snapped. Sloane simply gave him a Look. 

“That’s his watermark, just under the secondary bridge, right… _here,_ ” Sloane said, holding the datapad up to Hux’s face so that her finger was pointing to the small mark- a single Cheunh script that Vanto had taught Armitage when learning Cheunh five years ago. 

None of them could truly speak Cheunh, save for Vanto, but he’d had well over ten years of practise. Armitage could understand the language, but couldn’t quite speak it yet. However, he was a quick study in the trade languages Minnisiat and Sy Bisti. It wasn’t enough for the knowledge-hungry boy, so Vanto had shown him what Cheunh script he was allowed, unsure what the child had wanted to learn it for. When Sloane told him Armitage was using it to mark his own intellectual property, given that some of the more xenophobic wouldn’t bother learning to read the alien script, Vanto had simply smiled a wry smile, and told her Thrawn would have likely approved.

Now, it was paying off. The script was Armitage’s initials in Cheunh lettering, clearly marking his claim on his work. 

“You’re not technologically minded, Grand Admiral,” Hux snorted, then added as an aside, “with all due respect. That’s a notation of formulae to summarise the area of the proposed secondary bridge.”

Sloane let the back-handed insult slide off her. This wasn’t about her, it was about her son, and protecting his work. 

“Oh. Then what is this?”

She was now pointing at the actual formulae Hux was talking about- that was on the other side of the diagram. 

The room was so still and quiet that Sloane almost believed that the engineers and techs had fainted on their feet. Hux was two shades paler, eyes darting between her and the datapad. 

“A word with you, Commandant,” she said in a low, poisonous voice. “Privately.”

She turned on her heel in a precise about-face and strode out into the hallway, and into an adjacent ready-room. On the way, she carefully removed her white gloves and tucked them into her pocket. Hux followed her in reluctantly, and she shut the door. He opened his mouth to speak, clearly twisting an excuse, a denial, or worse- an accusation that Armitage had stolen _his_ work. 

Sloane didn’t give him a chance to make a single sound. She shut his mouth with a firm uppercut to his jaw, his teeth clicking together with a snap. His head whipped back, and he staggered, falling against the bulkhead.

“I _told you,_ ” she hissed, “that if you hurt him, if you answer to me. I _told you, **Rax told you,**_ that he was the future of the Empire, the First Order. He gave control of the first recruits to him. Not. You. He told _me_ to finish what he started. This is _my_ Empire, the First Order, it’s _mine,_ and will be _his, **not yours.**_ You are a tool. A rusted, well worn tool, and once you are done serving your purpose, you will no longer be of use to the Order, Brendol Hux.”

Hux had regained his feet, and lunged at her, wanting to use his weight and momentum to send her flying. His meaty hands grabbed for her, and she side-stepped him, grabbing the back of his tunic as he passed, then slammed him to the ground face first. 

“He’s a _child,_ ” Hux spat, along with a mouthful of blood on the floor as he twisted his head to get his breath. “He won’t be of any use to anyone until he’s grown if we’re lucky, and that’s even if he isn’t coddled by you to the point of being a _lapdog_.”

Sloane placed her heel on Hux’s back, right on his kidney, and ground it home. Hux made a sound somewhere between a scream and a balloon letting out air in a most unflattering imitation of flatulence. Sloane bent down, grabbed a handful of Hux’s thinning hair, and pulled his head up so she was close enough for him to hear. 

“He is _**my** child. _My son, since you refuse to see his worth. You humiliate him, belittle him in front of your friends, you made him scared of his own shadow until Rax gave him control and I showed him what it was like to have someone support him. Even _still,_ when I am not around, you take pains to torture him,” she growled. “You squandered an opportunity to continue your line with a brilliant son.”

“Armitage can play at being a boy all he wants, but he could never carry on the Hux name,” Hux spat. “He can’t sire children of his own, he doesn’t have the parts, and the parts he _does_ have make him nothing more than a brood mare. Only _men_ can continue the Hux line, and no amount of medical miracles can give him _that._ ”

Sloane ground her teeth, the squeal of enamel on enamel loud in the small room. She straightened, and _stomped_ on his kidney, then the other, before slamming his face into the floor with her boot. Hux howled in agony as his kidneys were assaulted, and his scream turned to a gurgling riot of noise as his nose broke, crushed on the floor. 

“You disgust me,” Sloane hissed. “If I didn’t need your program finished, I’d let Armitage practise interrogation techniques on you, and keep you alive with drips until he perfected the art.” 

She kicked him in the sides, ribs cracking under her durasteel-toe boots, and as he rolled over, curling into a ball, she stood over him, silently raging, still composed as ever. Hux clutched his broken nose, blood streaming between his fingers. 

“If the Order didn’t need you, I’d stomp your fat head into a pulp,” she said with all the calm matter-of-fact tone of one discussing the weather. “I still might, once I’m through with you.”

Her brown eyes were cold as they bore into Hux’s furious, red-rimmed gaze.

“Last chance, Commandant. I warn you. One more time, and it’s your last. Learn to behave like an adult, or you’ll be jettisoned. Perhaps you should take pointers from my son.”

With that, she strode from the room, leaving the elder Hux to moan and thrash in pain, and eventually pass out. She didn’t bother calling a med droid to assist him. Perhaps wallowing in his own blood and suffering through the pain without aid for a while would be a reminder of just who really had the Order in her hands. 

She smiled at the engineers and techs as she came back in. 

“Apologies, for that impromptu interim,” she said. “Let me fetch the one who _really_ came up with the idea for the secondary bridge, and we can continue this meeting.”

She went back to Armitage’s study, smiling thinly to herself. 

It always felt good, beating a man into a pulp to advance her own agenda, and that of the boy she had grown to love so much. Being credited for his own work and getting to explain it to grown men would be a huge boost of confidence for Armitage. Especially if he knew his father had been beaten out of the circle- quite literally. 

It would be a good day for them both.


	3. Reassignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux begrudgingly welcomes Snoke's apprentice to his flagship. The introduction goes about as well as he expected.

_The_ Finalizer _is a key centre for the First order military_ , General Armitage Hux thought bitterly as his polished boots carried him across the deck to the landing pad, _and these ‘Knights of Ren’ have no place in my military affairs._

It had been hard enough accepting leadership when Snoke had shown up, killed the new council of leadership that Hux had put together- the new loyalists who had not favoured or bent a knee to his now deceased father, Brendol Hux. True, Snoke would have killed Armitage had he not realised the main body of troops for the First Order mainly obeyed the young General’s orders, and would need to be conditioned to accept his, Force or not. It was the fact that the training regimen- by purposeful design on Hux’s part- that he could only have Snoke be _added_ to the spectrum of taskmasters to be obeyed, and not replace Hux himself, that kept Snoke from killing him after the regimen was altered.

It didn’t stop Snoke from stripping Hux of his title of Grand Marshal, and giving himself the title of Supreme Leader, which was like salt to an infected wound in Hux’s pride, but Armitage Hux was experienced in licking his wounds. He was well versed in the art of excising infection from himself, healing and making scars into strength, using patience to temper his ambition and pride to keep his cool.

Hux had to accept that, for now, like it or not, the First Order was falling into the Empire’s footsteps, and were being led by another blind fool leaning on archaic and outdated superstition, instead of embracing the future that was the brutal and superior technological might of their fleet. The thought still brought bitter bile of resentment to Hux’s throat when he dwelt on it too long.

He made a point not to, not if he could help it.

At least, he consoled himself, he would not follow Tarkin’s path and be second to a masked, capricious terror, subject to possible abuse for the slightest infarction, his work being ignored in favour of someone with lesser intelligence simply because the buffoon could wield the Force and flail an ancient weapon about. He was still, for the most part, in charge of his military force, and would be indefinitely- Snoke was just a looming figurehead whose presence he had to placate, but otherwise endure with grace while staying true to his own agenda.

Damn if the galaxy hadn’t laughed in his face at that idea only a few years after Snoke’s arrival, though.

The order from Supreme Leader Snoke had nearly had his mouth threatening to drop when he received it. His apprentice and his “Knights of Ren,” being assigned to the _Finalizer._ An unknown, possibly untrained gaggle of Force users on his orderly ship. Protests had boiled up in his chest, threatened to spill from his lips, but the General knew his place. He swallowed the bitter resentment- along with the salt-sweet tang of blood from biting his tongue- and bowed his head to Snoke. He hadn't gotten to where he was by throwing tantrums- no, he’d gotten to where he was through patience, planning, and ruthless proficiency. Instead, he curled his fingers into his palms, the black leather of his gloves stopping the comforting sensation of nails biting into skin, but the gesture helped keep his angry protests back in any case.

 _A Force user,_ he scoffed again. _Probably old, deformed and twisted. Likely wearing a mask to hide his grotesque features. And who knows what sort of chaos these ‘Knight of Ren’ will bring onto my ship._

Most of the Force users he'd heard about- through second hand or through the overblown stories passed down from Force-fearing men- were monstrous. Vader, the Emperor, even legends of Revan and Plagueis, painted them all as figures twisting out of nightmares, of men and women who played too closely with power that corrupted more than it empowered.

The only one who had scoffed during the tales were his mother, and she told them the stories when he was a child, her lip curling with derision as he sat beside her, leaning against her pressed white uniform. Her derision, the sneer that curled her lip had seemed almost blasphemous when he was younger, but as he grew, he knew she spoke from experience.

Her experience, it seemed, was that it was the manpower of the military that won wars and achieved the goals of their superiors. If Force users were as all powerful as the stories claimed, where were they now? And why did they always seem to need to usurp command of military forces instead of fighting their own battles and making their own conquests, if they were so much better than mere mortals?

Hux prided himself on being a man who achieved his goals through his own manpower, through cunning, guile and tactics, rather than falling to unseen forces that twisted him inside and out. He was a military man, learning from greater warriors and leaders that came before him, admiring their tactics and examples, using their proven successes as a foundation for his own success. General Hux was a man of his own volition, not some shadow-lurking creature like the ones being foisted upon him.

He stopped at the edge of the landing pad, grey-green eyes tracking the ostentatious shuttle as it came in, his gloved hands automatically folding behind him as he assumed parade rest. Mentally, he prepared himself for the scrutiny, the soul piercing scouring that would likely occur once the Knights of Ren disembarked. He also would not have been surprised if they’d been rambling, mad fools like the late Yupe Tashu, who’d lost most of his sanity in his zealous devotion to Palpatine.

He was only halfway unprepared as the figures swept from the shuttle. Hooded, cloaked and masked- as expected. The other knights trailed behind him, likewise cloaked and hooded, masked and… oddly dressed- was… was one of them wearing a waste bin re-purposed into a helmet on their head? Surely not! They looked like hooligans from a junkyard who’d decided to dress like Sith with the materials they’d had on hand, and the result was more bewildering than intimidating.

Hux drew his attention back to the lead figure- if he tried to figure out the motley group behind the tall figure, he might expose his confusion and derision. The lead Knight's build, height, the manner in which they carried themselves, were not what he expected. This was not an old man. Not at all.

Hux kept his composure, and nodded at the man, moving from parade rest to fold his hands in front of him. He watched as they approached, boots making a distinct sound against the deck. He tried not to cringe with disdain as he noticed the lackeys had _filthy_ boots and they were trailing all manner of dust, dirt, grime and stars-knew-what onto the pristine, polished deck of his ship.

Filthy and odd attire aside, none of them were withered, twisted old sorcerers. The alignment of their shoulders, their stride, their centre of gravity all spoke measures of them being a warrior- Hux had seen enough melee fighters that preferred electrostaves to recognise the stance when he saw it. This made him a bit hopeful- perhaps if this Knight and their group leaned more towards the lightsaber instead of the Force, they might be less addled of mind, easier to work with.

“I am General Armitage Hux,” he said evenly- it was always important he state his first name. Too many people assumed it was his father they’d be meeting, and he’d be damned if he’d be known as anything else than Armitage Hux, General of the First Order, and not the lowly Commandant his father had been.

True, Brendol _had_ attained the rank of General, but in the younger Hux’s presence, he was always referred to as Commandant- partly to reduce confusion on which Hux was being referred to, and also to defame his father’s memory as undeserving. General Armitage Hux took every given opportunity to grind Brendol’s memory under his well polished heel with the intent of eventually grinding it into forgotten obsolescence.

He wouldn’t have _had_ the problem in the first place if he hadn’t been stripped of his rank….

“Welcome to the _Finalizer._....” he trailed off, realising he didn't know the man's name.

Despite the mask, Hux could feel eyes behind the nightmare visage staring him down, and he felt a chill run down his spine, in spite of himself as a few long moments stretched between them. The knights were a silent wall of black behind their leader. Hux clamped down hard on his thoughts, the mask of his own fashion kept firmly in place as he compartmentalised his feelings, going as cold and unfeeling as a blade.

“Kylo Ren,” the taller man finally said in a modulated voice, one that sounded distinctly masculine, distorted by the metal mask. “Ren will suffice, General.”

“And… what do I call these…?” Hux asked, motioning to the silent entourage.

“Nothing, they only answer to me. You will not need to correspond with them,” came the curt reply. “They will stay with the shuttle- they will be called out shortly.”

Ren strode past the General brusquely, headed for the lifts.

“Show me to my quarters,” he commanded.

The coppery taste of blood filled Hux's mouth again as he chewed the inside of his cheek. Turning smartly on his heel in a precise about-face, he followed- then passed- Kylo Ren as he quickened his pace with his own long legs.

“This way,” he said curtly, keeping his pace brisk.

He swore he could practically feel the hate roiling off Ren, hearing his footsteps quicken behind him.

\---

Kylo Ren had taken his assignment much harder than his military partner. He'd argued, railed against the reassignment. His training was not done, he'd protested. He would do no good for the Order tied to a Star Destroyer. Snoke had shut off his arguments. He needed to work with others, to learn restraint. He needed to be more mobile and interred with the fleet- the Supremacy was not complete, and the flagship of the arrogant General Hux would be much more suitable.

It would also temper the General’s arrogance, show him his place, hopefully smother some of his ambition and keep him controlled. Snoke also wanted an eye on the man- something didn’t sit well with him about Hux, something he could not put his finger on, and perhaps Kylo Ren could sniff out what it was that made Hux “different.”

There was also the matter of observing how Hux’s daily routine was involved with the training and conditioning of the troopers of the First Order- Hux, so far, was absolutely necessary in the program that churned out troopers programmed for loyalty to the First Order, and Snoke had yet to be able to write him out of it. This made Hux invaluable, and for now, kept him from being disposed of.

 _Being saddled with a General,_ Ren snarled to himself as the shuttle approached. _Officers. Old men who are soft in the head and fat around the middle, with over inflated senses of self importance. Arrogant because they won battles while sitting behind desks, or standing behind consoles without getting their hands dirty, with medals pinned to their tunics they earned by passive observation. More concerned with how a uniform is pressed than how to subdue an enemy._

The irritation didn't abate as he got up and exited the shuttle, still loathing his relocation and the General he hadn't even met yet.

“I am General Armitage Hux,” came the greeting. “Welcome to the _Finalizer_.....”

Ren was quiet. The General was young. Younger than expected. He couldn't have been older than thirty. Tall, lean and fair, with a well groomed shock of red hair and grey-green eyes that were as sharp as that of an avril's and flashed with intelligence and a scrutiny that spoke of the man missing nothing on his well ordered ship. This was not at all the man he was expecting to meet.

This was not the old fat officer he’d been told about, the one with greying hair, a thinning, patchy beard, and a paunch that couldn’t be contained by even the most well tailored of tunics- evidence of gluttony to go with the desk-bound ambition of a bureaucrat. No, this was the opposite of what he’d expected- then it occurred to him he may have been misled, as he recalled, too late, that the old fat officer had been Commandant Brendol Hux. This, clearly, was his son.

It took him a moment to realise that the General had trailed off, hoping for an introduction. He didn’t miss the distaste and chagrin rolling off the General in waves at the dirt on his polished deck, however, which amused Ren more than he cared to admit. A stickler for order and cleanliness- he’d have fun using that to torment the redhead.

“Kylo Ren,” he finally replied, keeping his tone modulated as best he could. “Ren will suffice, General.”

 _He was supposed to be old and soft,_ he hissed to himself. _An old man easy to intimidate with threats of the Force choking the life from him. He's young, and his eyes are fearless. This isn’t Brendol. This is his son- and I was not informed of the change in command. When did the old fat fart step down? Is he dead? If so, then how, and when?_

Frustrated, he swept past the General, heading to the lifts. He wanted to be alone, regroup, recollect himself- and see if he could learn about this change of commanding officers he’d been uninformed of.

“Show me to my quarters,” he ordered, after making a dismissive gesture to his Knights to indicate they should stay with the shuttle- he hoped they would be off and out on a mission soon.

He could hear Hux turn on his heel, the smart swish of pressed cloth as his stride was quickened to catch up to him- and then pass him.

“This way,” came the cold reply, and Hux kept his pace quick.

Ren snarled under his mask, but he felt the flush creeping up his neck again as he watched the loping stride of the General as he moved to flank him. Hux moved with the grace of a seasoned predator, his gait smooth and purposeful, but relatively quiet. He’d heard only a few things about Armitage, accounts from Brendol himself, and the former General had dismissed his own son as ‘lacking.’

“I had not been informed that General Brendol Hux was no longer in command of this ship,” Ren commented, testing the waters. His mouth twisted under his mask, watching how Hux’s posture stiffened even further- something he didn’t think would have been physically possible.

“Commandant,” Hux said icily. “He may have attained the rank of General, but he is not called by that title on this ship. _**I**_ am General Hux, and _**he**_ is dead.”

Ren felt the hatred, the pure vitriol coming from Hux, and it tasted of bitterness, of one who had been a disappointment to another, and resented them for it, which Ren didn’t entirely understand. Armitage Hux was not lacking. He moved with the precision and edge of a finely honed weapon, and his demeanour, his nature, was as cold and glittering as ice. He did not _look_ or sound like someone who had achieved their rank through nepotism or luck, despite the rumours he’d heard.

Curious, Ren probed at Hux’s mind, and he was met with a wall as tough as titanium and frigid like the void of space- unyielding and showing nothing, speaking measures of the man’s willpower.

This gave him pause. Then, he noticed with a shock- not only could he not read the other man’s mind, it was simply _not accessible_ to him. The sharp eyes had clearly indicated something was furiously at work in the General’s mind, but not even a whisper of a thought escaped him. With another shock, as Ren tried again, he realised that he had to focus, very hard indeed, to even hone in on Hux’s mind, as if there was a coating of oil over it that had his mind slipping off before it could grab hold.

He relaxed his “grip” with the Force, abandoning the effort as he noticed the muscles of Hux’s neck tense, and he rubbed at his temple, as if trying to coax away the beginnings of a headache. As soon as Ren stopped trying to focus on him, Hux became part of the environment, background noise, and not his own spark of being in the Force- it was still there, but Ren’s mind skipped over it in the presence of the other sparks of being on the ship.

It was as if Hux had some natural sort of “camouflage” that made him less noticeable than others, harder to find by those who wielded the Force. For a second, Ren thought of ysalamiri- creatures that were able to manipulate the levels of the Force present amongst them in order to hide themselves from their natural predator, the vornskr, which hunted using the Force to detect their prey.

_Ah._

This had to be one of the reasons Snoke had for sending Hux to greet him, for Ren to keep an eye on him- to figure out how it was the General had such a well guarded mind. True enough, Ren could sense, feel, even identify the emotions rolling off Hux in waves- the frustration, the disdain, the irritation, the distaste, and the surprise- but there was no whispering, no murmuring of thoughts like an undercurrent of conversation heard from another room, as it was with almost everyone else in the hangar bay. It was as if Hux’s mind were a soundproofed room with a well sealed door from under which only the air currents of emotion escaped, like cold air out of a freezer.

Ren shrugged it off. It was interesting, but not his problem, and he hadn’t been assigned specifically to figure out the General’s mind, only observe him. He only hoped he wouldn’t have to be around the odd stiff man longer than he had to.


	4. Unmasked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux witnesses a few things that give him insight to Ren's character- a tantrum, and his face. And oh no, he's hot.

It had been three weeks since Ren had boarded the Finalizer. 

Hux had yet to see the man take off his mask.

Ren took his meals in his quarters, always wore the same armour, cloak and mask, he had his own private refresher- Hux was starting to wonder if he slept in the damned thing. His Knights, thankfully, spent most of their time off the ship, doing … whatever it was they were ordered to do. Hux didn’t know, didn’t care to know, and didn’t ask, in order to keep it that way. He just wished they would clean up before coming onto his ship. Filthy heathens. 

Kylo Ren wasn't old, Hux had discerned that much. He moved through the ship like a ghost, quiet, quick and effortlessly, with the frustrating and unnerving tendency of appearing out of nowhere. He trained vigorously in the exercise rooms, but no one was allowed to enter while he did his routine- except his Knights, when they were on the ship, and they often left the room they trained in a disaster. 

His stormtroopers reported hearing the sounds of lightsaber combat from within while on their patrols, so Hux had the feeling his assumption of Ren and his knights being more of a warrior group than manipulators was correct. Oh, he had no doubts that the Knight would use the Force if needed, but he sensed the man was more dependent on his physical weapon in combat. He was hoping that it would make it easier to work with Ren. 

He was wrong. The first 'fit' proved that to him. 

A patrol, sent out to accompany the Knights as backup to find intel for Ren, came back empty handed. The patrol leader, a Cipher agent, barely keeping her composure, apologised to Ren, stating that somehow they'd been tipped off, and the Resistance had moved their impromptu base. The Knights stood silently, almost accusingly, as the usually composed confident and cool-under-pressure Cipher agent shook and sweat under the emotionless gaze of Ren’s mask.

From across the bridge, Hux saw Ren tense, saw his muscles nearly shake with rage. Gloved hands tightened into fists, and the command deck went silent. Hux started to cross the deck quickly to intervene- executing his troops for missed opportunity was the quickest way to lose their loyalty, and he wouldn't have it on his ship. Especially his Ciphers- they took too long, too much effort, too many resources, and too much mental conditioning and strengthening, and long stints of finesse and social training to be executed on capricious whims. 

Ren turned, however, and for the first time, Hux saw his lightsaber ignite. The blade was red, crackling, and unstable, with crossguard blades igniting from vents on the sides of the hilt. It hissed and snapped, instead of humming as Hux had heard lightsabers were supposed to. For a split second, he faltered between self preservation and keeping control of the situation, loathing the cold indecision that gripped him. 

Ren didn't attack the Cipher, however. 

A sound of rage escaped him, and with that horrible cry, he lunged at a console. The blade crashed into the machinery, sparks flying and metal hissing as it melted. Hux stopped dead in his tracks, mouth gaping in horror, disbelief written on his face as Ren attacked the console over and over, strangled sounds issuing from his mask. 

The bridge crew was silent, everyone frozen in fear as they watched the Supreme Leader’s apprentice basically have it out on the ship. One of the Knights audibly _yawned_ and stretched, clearly waiting for what was a normal happenstance to pass. After a few moments more, Hux felt his own shock turn to rage. How _dare_ that man attack his ship and cause such damage? What could have _possibly_ possessed him to act like such a _child_?

“Ren,” he snapped, white hot rage flaring in his chest. “What are you _doing_?”

Ren stopped in mid swing, the saber crackling and hissing in tandem with the sparks flying from the now ruined console. The sounds seemed louder than they should in the heavy silence that filled the command deck. Ren turned slowly to face Hux, and for the first time, the General felt a shiver of fear touch his bones as the masked Knight stared him down. 

The saber shut down and even the console had ceased its sparking. The silence was deafening, and weighed on Hux's shoulders like a rancor bearing down on him. He stood his ground, however, meeting Ren's gaze, his posture commanding and rigid. He was remembering the memoirs of Tarkin’s he’d once read, about his experiences hunting predators on the Carrion Spike on his home world, Eriadu, and one lesson stood out at that moment. One didn't face a wild beast with visible signs of weakness and fear, nor did they face it with open aggression. They simply stood their ground, and refused to give quarter. 

Hux continued to stare Ren down, his face impassive, save for the narrowing of his eyes, that glittered like ice. The tension grew between them, and the crew began to visibly become disturbed, wanting the silent stand off to end. Finally, Ren hooked his weapon back to his belt, and whirled around, storming off the bridge and disappearing around a corridor. 

Hux released the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding, then turned to look at the troopers. A cursory glance told him they were all right, merely shaken. He inclined his head.

“Take six hours of liberty after your debriefing,” he instructed, then cast a look around the bridge at the crew that was still looking shell-shocked. 

“Back to work,” he said sternly. “Lieutenant Mitaka, get a tech up here to see if this console can be salvaged.” 

He turned on his heel and headed in the direction Ren had disappeared. Hux knew Ren was headed to his quarters, and that he shouldn't follow after him, but he would not have this man blindly destroy _his_ ship. If he showed any weakness, allowed Ren to have his way, he’d lose the respect of his crew. He’d worked too hard to get where he was, to get what he had. He wouldn’t lose it to this… this _brat._

Ren's doors were already shut, the Knight locked inside. Hux pounded on the door, determined to have some sort of explanation or apology. Something. _Anything._

“Ren!” Hux barked, still beating on the door. “What the void was that you pulled out there? Answer me!”

There was no response, and the door remained locked. Hux gritted his teeth, and pulled out an access card from his pocket. He'd told Snoke that his apprentice would have privacy and respect, but he was not going to allow the man to tear apart his ship and then hide in his room like a child. He slipped his card into the slot, and the access panel went green. Hux squared his shoulders, and pushed the door open, striding into the room.

The room had been completely fitted in black panels, the floors a matte black tile, low red lights giving an eerie ambiance. There was a single mat to one side of the room, possibly for meditation, and a single utilitarian bed fitted- unsurprisingly- with black sheets that looked almost threadbare, and a very insubstantial pillow. There was also a stand, where Ren’s helmet sat in a slightly recessed tray of what looked like ashes. A spare helmet, perhaps?

What caught Hux’s attention was the pedestal in the centre of the room, where something charred, twisted and broken sat. Hux recognised the nightmarish visage, even as broken and burnt as it was- Sloane had told him of that horrible helmet and how seeing it on her ship had always made her fear for the lives of her subordinates as well as her own. 

It was the helmet of Darth Vader. 

Ren whirled around from where he stood by this sparse but horrifying shrine to the dead Sith Lord, a look of fury on-

Hux came to a stop, eyes blinking. 

_His face._

The helmet on the stand wasn’t a spare- and Kylo Ren stood before Hux without it, his face visible for the first time.

Kylo Ren was no twisted monstrosity, no deformed old man. There was no pale skin with black spiderweb-like veins, no loss of hair, no sunken eyes and wrinkled or shrunken features. 

_He's.... he's young,_ Hux managed silently. _He’s probably my age, give or take five years._

Ren had a youthful face, with smooth skin and well sculpted features. His eyes were rich, brown and heavy lidded, his mouth full and plush, his jaw lean with a stubborn chin. His brow was knitted furiously above his long, but elegant nose. Hux stared, despite himself. This man was not a monster. He was of the same age as himself, give or take a few years.

 _I thought those who used the Dark Side of the Force were supposed to be hideous,_ Hux thought blankly, not even truly aware of what he was thinking. _He... he's attractive._

He came back to reality as Ren advanced on him, a snarl twisting his full mouth so that straight white teeth flashed. 

“Get out!” He hissed. “You have no right to be in here!”

Hux blinked. His voice was softer, made less harsh by the absence of his mask, and he could swear that he heard traces of a Corellian accent in his speech. He didn't have time to dwell on it much longer, as he found his back being slammed against the bulkhead. 

“Invading the personal space of a Knight of Ren is foolhardy, General,” Ren growled, his teeth bared as he gripped Hux's shoulders with long gloved fingers. “What did you hope to accomplish? Did you wish to join the console?”

Hux levelled his gaze at Ren, trying to ignore how close his face was. He could see how his long wavy black hair was curling around his neck and jawline from sweat and being pressed under his helmet, and he could see that his pale face was speckled with moles. For a wild instant, Hux suspected that when his hair was clean and groomed, it would be thick, shiny and almost luxurious, an envy of many socialites. 

At their close proximity, Hux caught a whiff of sweat, leather, and ozone- was that what a Force user smelled like when using their abilities? Or was it the lightsaber? No, there was a slightly acrid burning smell that was unfamiliar to him, perhaps that was the lightsaber….

Hux narrowed his eyes to refocus on the situation at hand, and not on Ren’s surprising features- or the fact that some of those features were oddly familiar in a way he couldn’t quite place. He’d seen those eyes before, seen that stubbornly set mouth, the furious jut of that proud chin….

“I want to know why you decided my ship was something you could just destroy like a toy you were tired of playing with,” he replied coolly. 

Ren stared him down, a muscle in his cheek twitching, and those heavy lidded eyes seemed to see right through Hux. They were both silent, brown eyes staring into grey-green, two men unused to relenting control or deferring to another, both unwilling to back down. 

_How **infuriating** this man is! _Ren raged to himself. _Barging into my quarters, making demands of me as though I were one of his underlings!_

And still, as close as they were, as open as Hux’s expression and roiling emotions were- angry, righteous, and curious- _he still could not read the General’s mind._ No… but he had. For a brief instant, he’d _heard_ something from Hux’s mind- shock at his appearance, disbelief at his age… and right before the mental wall came crashing down again, there was a flicker of _pleasant_ surprise, as if the General _liked what he saw._

It had already occurred to Hux how close Ren was, but only now was Ren himself realising their proximity. Hux was younger looking at this distance, and Ren noticed he had a dusting of freckles over the bridge of his nose. He saw, as close as they were, that his eyes were actually grey, ringed with green, and speckled with blue. 

He also became painfully aware of how clean and orderly the General was- pomade was in his hair, slicking it back, his uniform perfectly pressed even with powerful fingers digging into the black fabric. Even though his greatcoat hung on his shoulders, it still looked perfectly in place. The scent of clean pressed linen, shoe polish, pomade and a very light mix of fougère and musk that was likely a cologne hung about him- the pleasant smell of a well pressed, extremely organised and disciplined man. 

“Are you going to continue staring at me, or are you going to tell me what the stars possessed you back there?” Hux asked calmly. 

Ren grabbed hold of the man's collar with one hand, and slammed the access panel to his door with the other. The door slid open, and Ren shoved Hux out unceremoniously. To his continued fury, Hux managed to catch himself and keep his composure. 

“Do _not_ do it again, Ren. Shove me out if you want, deny me an explanation like a child, but do not take your rage out on my ship or my crew,” Hux warned, his tone dangerous. 

“I only listen to the Supreme Leader,” Ren snarled, slamming the door in his face. 

Hux growled under his breath. Ren had basically said _You aren't the boss of me_ , before slamming the door like a spoilt brat. He straightened his tunic, smoothing the front, recollecting himself. 

“I thought you were a monstrosity behind that mask,” he muttered to himself as he went back to the bridge. “Now I am not sure what you are.” 

He tried very hard to ignore the sounds of lightsaber slashing and sparking behind Ren's closed door as he walked away, his boots clicking on the polished floor of the corridor. 

_Supreme Leader, whatever you have planned by this assignment, I hope it resolves soon._

He’d originally planned to go back to the bridge, but something kept nagging him- something about Ren’s eyes… and that accent- surely it was Corellian…

He headed for his own quarters, where he had access to every database the First Order had ever hacked, pillaged or completely stolen before wiping clean. He had some searching to do.


	5. Prying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Kylo is a peeping Ren.

Hux trusted his soldiers, and was confident in them and their abilities. After all, their training was a result of his work, he had a hand in it, their conditioning, the propaganda. Inspired by his father's methods, tweaked by further inspiration by Grand Admiral Thrawn's treatment of his own, and then polished with his own insight, Hux believed that he had perfectly rounded out his soldiers to be a perfect machine of manpower for the First Order. Their loyalty was assured, and it was that loyalty he valued above anything else. 

That being said, he felt comfortable around his crew, but always apart from them. Phasma, he corresponded with, planned with. She was his personal guard when he left the Finalizer, and she was his confidant. Through one another, they’d annihilated ties to their past that had threatened to strangle them both. She was his friend, if he had to say what their relationship was. 

The two of them shared secrets and burdens known only between the two of them, and they had the utmost respect for one another, but didn't spend a great deal together outside of work- despite rumours of the contrary. They occasionally had drinks together, and often trained together, but their free time was often spent apart. They were both quiet individuals, and in any case, Phasma didn’t do romance, and only enjoyed the carnal company of women. Not that Hux minded- he himself wasn’t picky, but if he could be choosy, he preferred men. However, he couldn’t be choosy. 

Hux was the General- he was the leader of his army, but not one of them, as much as he respected them. He was solitary and reclusive in his spare time. While it may have made others lonely, Hux enjoyed the quiet. He was a man for the Order, his desires parallel with the goals of the Order and Supreme Leader, but all the same, he relished the quiet moments of silence in his quarters after a day of being immersed in the machine of war. 

But as of late, he was no longer alone. 

Ever since Ren had come aboard the _Finalizer_ , Hux had felt eyes on him, and a slight pressure on his mind, even when the Knight was nowhere to be seen, and at odd, and unnervingly vulnerable moments. 

He first felt the gaze on him a few days after Ren had boarded, early in the morning. It was the sensation of being watched that stirred the General from his sleep before his alarm was to go off. He lay in bed, stiff with nerves, as he felt a prying stare on his supine form. There was also a constant, mild pressure at random points on his skull- between his eyes, at his temple, against the back of his head near the nape of his neck. 

With a chill, Hux realised it felt like the time his father had taken his head in his fat broad hands and prodded at his skull, feeling the bone structure, poking at specific points to determine the degree of ‘good breeding,’ he might discern from the five year old’s small cranium. Despite having the blankets over his shoulders as he rested on his side, Hux felt stripped and exposed. After a few moments, he sat up, the blankets falling from his torso as he barked aloud to the darkness of his room. 

“Enough!”

The feeling lasted a few moments more, and Hux moved fingers to the buttons of his pyjama shirt, feeling the buttons of the front. All but the top were fastened, and his exposed clavicle under that gaze had him breaking out in a cold sweat. Then the presence was gone, and the pressure lifted from his head.

Hux skipped his shower that morning, and he had to fight to keep his hands from trembling as he carefully shaved. 

Phasma gave Hux a nod as he joined her on the bridge, and the enhanced olfactory receptors in her helmet told her something about the General was off. For the first time since working with him, the General didn't smell of the specific shampoo he normally used in the morning, just aftershave and pomade. It struck her as odd, as the General was the definition of a creature of habit and cleanliness and order that bordered on obsessive, even on some of his worst days, but she knew better than to say anything. 

If something was wrong, he’d tell her- and she’d be more than happy to deal with the cause of the problem, especially if it meant a physical confrontation. She excelled at handling those. She knew Hux was just as adept at slitting the throats of those who caused problems- she’d witnessed such an event and it had been a treat- but she liked knowing that he would come to her if need be. Until he said so, she would keep it quiet, and wait. 

Hux felt the sensation, the watchful gaze and prying pressure again as he trained that afternoon, unseen eyes following the motions of the beads of sweat that rolled down bare arms, or over cheekbones from a glistening forehead. He could practically feel the invisible eyes rove down his back as he silently did push-ups on the mat, or as he lifted weights. He was being weighed, measured, and the unseen watcher was unsure if he was found wanting- or more than they could handle- and so kept watching to make sure.

He took nearly two hours to bring himself to take a shower- which, thankfully, was blissfully free of unseen supervision. He even permitted himself to prolong it to twenty minutes, scrubbing extra hard to be rid of what felt like _so much filth._ He felt worlds better as he slid into his casuals for the evening- even then, his clothing well ironed, pressed and properly tucked in and smoothed down.

Once again, he was no longer alone as he ate dinner in his quarters, browsing reports. Even when taking what some considered 'liberty,' the General was always at work. He looked up from his datapad and scowled into the empty air in front of him. His red brows furrowed as he tilted his head up to gaze around the empty room that suddenly felt very crowded.

“That is quite enough,” he snarled into the quiet of his chambers. For a few long moments, the only reply was the hum of the ship that normally was such a soothing ambiance for Hux. Now, it was deafening, and it rung in his ears.

“Enough,” he repeated. “A whole day now. I know it's you, Ren.” 

Silence, but the gaze still lingered, and the pressure on his head increased, traces of pain actually starting to register in his nerves, like the onset of a migraine. Hux's scowl deepened, and he set his fork down, his plate of bruallki and tritacale forgotten. He pushed his chair back, grey-green eyes searching the room. No, this was not the work of bugs or cameras. This was something else. 

“What's your game, Ren? Are you looking for weaknesses in my routine? Or do you simply enjoy being a voyeur?” He called aloud.

This time, instead of ringing silence, the pressure in his head moved, concentrated, and exploded into a singular pinpoint of pain like an ice-pick in his skull. Hux hissed and leaned over his desk as the sensation originated in his temple and radiated over his frontal lobe, pressing the heels of his palms against his forehead. 

_Never easy the first time. Not something that is easily prevented, even with a proper warning,_ a voice said directly in his mind. 

_However…_ the voice was curious, and the probing intensified- as did the pain. _This is harder than usual...I’ve been trying to get through for days now._

Hux froze, still bent forward with palms pressed to his forehead, his eyes wide. He thought he recognised the voice, but it was different, it was-

_How my voice truly sounds, yes._

It was Ren, without the metal reverberations provided by his mask- or tight with rage from having his quarters invaded. The voice was … how did Hux describe it other than soft, but precise? The first thing that came to his mind was dark suede. It was almost soothing, compared to the pain that invading his mind had caused. There was also that Corellian accent- faint, but there.

“Why?” He asked aloud. “What do you want? What is the point of this invasive surveillance?”

_I am to work beside you. We are equals, you and I. Or so I am told, led to believe. I simply want to know if the man parading in the impeccable uniform is not just a façade covering a cowardly interior._

Hux bristled, teeth clenching. 

“You know nothing of my upbringing, my training, the trials and suffering I have risen from!” He spat. “You know nothing of what makes me as a man, as a General, the oaths I took, the motivation and inspiration I have, the sheer amount of blood and sweat that went into proving myself and taking what is **rightfully mine**!”

His impassioned spat fell on indifferent ears, and for a moment, the pressure behind his eyes increased. 

_Perhaps I don't,_ Ren agreed off-handedly. _But I have seen- and now know- enough, General Armitage Hux._

As quickly as Ren's presence had come, it was gone, and Hux stumbled to his bed, sweat covering his pale brow, his pupils contracted with the effort of staying upright on suddenly weak knees. He fell to the bed, his dinner and his work completely forgotten. 

He didn’t sleep well that night, Ren’s probing leaving a migraine in its wake. It persisted well into the morning, and for the first time in a decade, Hux took a day of medical leave to recover. 

——

Ren continued making his presence known, but with less frequency after Hux had stood his ground that night- and he hadn't spoken to him since. He made Hux think of a curious predator that toyed with its prey, but withdrew to more careful watching when the prey proved to be too much to handle directly. Now that Ren had made the initial breach to speak to him mind-to-mind, the pressure had lifted considerably, even though Hux could still feel Ren’s presence when he brushed his mind against his own.

Unfortunately- either by design or a side effect of the breach- Hux began to suffer more migraines than usual, and not all of them were due to exasperation from Ren’s antics. Hux suffered from migraines from the young age of thirteen, and after suffering from a continuous month-long episode, a neurologist confirmed they were a genetic condition. The doctor prescribed Hux a monthly injection to combat the crippling migraines, and successfully reduced his cases to less than three times a month in worst-case scenarios. He’d been on the medication ever since, but now, after Ren had pushed into his mind, they were picking up in frequency again. 

Hux found himself feeling another migraine coming on, and pulled an ice cube from his ice water. He wrapped it in a napkin, putting it to his temple as he did more work over dinner- this time in the officer's lounge, Phasma sitting on the other side of the table. The lounge was empty- by design, as Phasma never took her helmet off for anyone, save Hux. Even in the empty lounge, she had her back to the door to keep her face hidden from anyone who might come in. 

The captain blinked ice blue eyes at him, looking up from her dish of Firaxan fillet. She watched him rub the impromptu cold-pack against his temple, noting the visible vein pulsing on the side of his forehead. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Problem?” she asked, her voice ever cool and level, even when at ease. 

Hux grunted, pushing the datapad at her, turning it with a finger so she could read it, then switched the wrapped ice cube to his other temple. 

“You mean aside from the brewing migraine? Damages,” he said in irritation. “From that …. from Ren's tantrums.”

He cut into his own fillet a bit awkwardly, going at it one handed to keep the ice cube against his temple as Phasma went over the report. Her face, normally composed, immovable and unreadable- and not due to the fact that she normally wore her helmet- had mixed emotions. Steely eyes finally looked across the table at him, and Hux simply lifted both brows, wiping his mouth with a napkin delicately. 

“Hux, is that an estimate of projected damage if this continues or-”

“Current. Current damages and estimated repair cost as well as the losses of having said equipment out of service and having to reallocate manpower as well as the functions of said equipment,” Hux said evenly, taking a sip of his murrih tisane, sighing again as he enjoyed the violet coloured tea, letting the heat running down his throat calm him- a lovely contrast of heat in his throat and ice on his forehead. Phasma was quiet, the only indication of a reaction being the tension in her well cut jaw. 

“The Supreme Leader has his reasons,” she finally said, pushing the datapad back at him and tilting back her own glass- simple ice water for the captain. 

Hux grunted again in what sounded like agreement- he could do no more, as Ren was sweeping his way towards them. The Knight, Hux noticed immediately, did not have a meal with him. He was empty handed, and moving with purpose. He groaned inwardly, glancing down at his meal. If Ren was going to ruin yet another decent dinner...

“General,” Ren said, his voice metallic and modulated. The gaze behind it moved to Phasma, who had noticed Hux’s gaze changing direction, and had replaced the helmet on her head. “Captain.” 

Hux heard the difference in tone his voice held as he greeted Phasma. He respected her, but did not see her as an equal, only a slightly more important tool. Phasma inclined her head. 

“Kylo Ren,” she greeted before turning her attention back to her meal, ignoring the two men as she began tucking the rest of her meal into a bundle to be taken back to her quarters. The figure in black clearly was not trustworthy enough to show her face to. Ren barely paid her notice, his focus entirely on the General again. 

“Something I can do for you, Ren?” Hux asked lightly, turning his fork on its side to cut off another piece of Firaxan. He had no intention of stopping his meal, not even for Ren. Especially since Ren's invasion of his mind and privacy had spoilt one already. 

“Are you ill?”

The question caught him off guard, and Hux lifted his eyes to the other man. 

“Why? What do you care?” he asked, then waved his hand dismissively. “It’s a migraine, and I intend to be in my quarters soon enough to see to it- provided you aren’t here to prevent me from retiring.”

Ren grunted, considering, then went back on track.

“The training rooms. I require one for my own personal use,” came the Knight's reply. “And mine alone.” 

Hux took his time to answer, sliding a piece of shark slowly, deliberately into his mouth, chewing indulgently. He wondered how long Ren would allow him to hold off on his reply as he swallowed, lifting his cup again and taking a long sip of tea. 

Not long, as it turned out.

“I asked a _question,_ ” Ren snarled. “A training room. I require one.” 

Hux wiped at his mouth with the napkin far more delicately and deliberately than was necessary, finally looking up to meet the masked gaze. 

“You did not- you made a demand. In any case, there are plenty,” he said at last. “Pick one. Use it.”

He turned to cut into his own daro, when he saw Ren's fist clench. Sensing that there was a chance that the Knight was going to swipe his meal away to reclaim his attention, Hux set his jaw and looked back up at Ren. 

“Is that an issue, Kylo Ren?” He asked levelly, his tone careful. 

In a movement nearly too fast to see, Ren had come to Hux’s side, the masked face pushed close to his- close enough to where Hux stiffened, lest he risk the chance of his nose touching the cold metal. A growl sounded softly behind the black and silver visage. 

“I require one. For my own use. I will not share such spaces with your troops,” he said curtly. “See to it, General.”

With that, he strode off, cloak billowing behind him. Phasma glanced up from packing up her dinner at Hux, whose face had gone cold and blank as he resumed his meal. 

“Sir?”

Hux returned her curious gaze. 

“Oh, he shall have his training room,” Hux said quietly. “I will oversee it myself, and he will learn that I am not his pawn.”

A plan, one for retribution, was already forming in his mind, and the General went back to enjoying his meal with gusto he hadn't shown earlier, despite the fact that his migraine continued to slowly intensify.

——

Hux stood in his office, a small study attached to his quarters. Monitors and consoles with steady readouts of varying activities cast a soft blue glow throughout the room and over the sturdy desk. Various holo feeds of vital areas- such as the command deck- showed the comings and goings of the later shift. 

Hux wasn't paying them any mind, however. He was focused on his new holo projector, which he had recently installed. Nestled into his desk, and easily hidden under a panel, he was pleased with its placement, and eager to utilise it for the first time. A gloved finger reached out and flicked the feed on. A few more button presses had the feed flipping through the cameras programmed into it, and finally, Hux had what he wanted. 

A projection came into view, the blue figure of Kylo Ren striding into the refresher of his newly refurbished training room. A smile twitched over Hux's mouth as unknowingly, the Knight set his weapon down, and began to peel off his clothing. 

At first, Hux was simply watching for the satisfaction of violating Ren's privacy, of seeing him without his cloak, his mask, his armour. To see him vulnerable as Ren had seen him. He straightened smugly, arms folded over his chest under his coat as Ren, layer by layer, completely disrobed. 

The longer this went, however, Hux felt his mood shift. As the removal of a shirt revealed well toned muscles, a firm set of abs, a well sculpted chest, spattered with scars of varying types and sizes, Hux was finding his mouth had gone dry. Ren looked to the side as he tossed his shirt over his shoulder, and the muscles of his neck, the curve of his clavicle....

Hux found his hand covering his mouth, eyes trailing down the planes of Ren's body. Yes, the man was a warrior, he certainly was built like one. Scarred like one. Yet, he was lean. He was all offence, speed and agility, if his lithe figure said anything. Yes. All offence, and strong, Hux mused, eyes roving almost hungrily along Ren's stomach. Hux's eyes glittered as he caught the trail of dark hair raking downward from his navel and disappearing beneath black trousers- and between two narrow, well defined hips that jutted above the black pants' waistline. 

_Stars, he's gorgeous,_ Hux thought wildly to himself. _If I didn't hate him so much for his self centred arrogance and lack of control...._

Ren looked up, his brow knitting above his long elegant nose, almost as if sensing Hux's gaze on him. There was a silence, one that had been previously broken by the rustling of clothing as it was removed. Now, it was thick with suspicion. Ren knew, or was starting to wonder.... or, Hux realised with a jolt of fear, _he’d let his partition slip._

Hux didn't give the man a chance to catch him. A finger hit the switch, and the feed died as he closed his mind. Another nudge, and the panel covered the holo projector. 

Hux left his office, shedding his coat and working on undoing the sealing seam of his tunic, mildly disturbed at how the image of Ren's torso wouldn't leave his mind- especially his clavicle and throat. His own stomach was tight, his cheeks flushed. 

_Ktah_ , he thought, the expletive harsh, even in his thoughts as he slipped out of his uniform and into his pyjamas. That was not how he'd planned on that course of action going. He deserved, he supposed, but he still had the twinge of satisfaction that he’d spied on Ren and invaded his privacy the way the Knight had done to him. 

He sprawled on his bed, too worked up to take his nightly shower, and now, too paranoid that Ren had caught him to take one. The heat in his stomach and groin showed no sign of receding- and neither did the distracting mental images of Ren in just a pair of black trousers. 

Hux slid under his blankets, trying to focus on going to sleep. He ran his mind over tomorrow's schedule, of retrofitting that was needed for a console on the bridge, requisitions that needed approval, training holos that needed to be approved. Uniform inspection. The reassurance of routine, of duty, did nothing to push away what he'd seen under Ren's clothing. 

_Almost wish I'd watched longer,_ Hux found himself thinking before he shook his head. _No, no, no, that is the **last** thing you need to be thinking about!_

It had been an exercise in levelling the field between himself and the Knight, nothing more. He needed to forget it, and move on. 

Still....

Giving up all pretence of focusing on tomorrow's schedule, Hux slid a hand under the waist of his pants, and into his underclothes. Fingers found his cock, circling around it, and giving it a few strokes. A slight shudder ran through his body, and he stopped, moving to slide his middle and ring fingers into his cunt. His thumb and forefinger resumed stroking and rubbing his cock, which swelled and throbbed under the attention, and fluid began to slip from his cunt. Hux dipped his fingers into it, wetting them to make stroking his insistent cock easier. 

He couldn't get the image of Ren's clavicle out of his mind, nor could he be rid of the thought of sinking his teeth into it, of the bruise that might bloom on the pale skin. Realising he was lost to the fantasy, he gave into it, hand working under his pants as he writhed under the blankets. His free hand balled into a fist, nails scraping his palm as he bit the knuckle and first joint of his forefinger to stifle the low moans issuing from his throat. 

_Could you just imagine riding those hips?_ He thought to himself, imagining his thighs straddling the defined pelvis, taking Ren's length into himself, running hands over bruises blooming over the Knight's chest and shoulders.... his hands bound behind him. 

Another moan slipped from behind the General's fist, and he bit down harder, the pain from his hand only encouraging his arousal. He curled his middle and ring fingers, slipping digits over the various textures and wet heat of his dripping cunt, and his cock throbbed against thumb and forefinger.

 _What if he sees this?_ Was the sudden worry.

Hux found he was torn between being horrified at the thought, and utterly aroused by it. As he thought of Ren probing his mind only to discover the General pleasuring himself to images of the Knight's submission, another moan escaped him. Fingers curled again, and this time, he struck the patch of nerves he'd been seeking. No, he was skilled at keeping up his mental partitions, he’d learnt from a young age that keeping up mental barriers was important in a galaxy that contained beings who would leap at the chance to read it. 

A deep, full body shudder rocked through Hux's lean frame, and as he increased the friction on his cock, the speed and pressure on that _one spot_ deep inside his cunt, Hux arched his back, toes curling and head tossing back into the pillows. His teeth broke skin as he came, a string of curses erupting from his throat. 

_“Fuck me,”_ he moaned to himself- and out loud- as he panted, teeth letting go of his bloody and rapidly bruising hand. _That was not supposed to happen._

With a grunt, and great effort, Hux heaved himself out of bed. If Ren had “seen” all of that, seeing him take a shower was minor in comparison. 

This time, Hux allowed himself to take almost a full hour in the shower. 

————

In his quarters, Ren had started to probe at Hux, and was delighted to find a very small crack, a lapse, an opening into the impressive partitions the General had clearly spent decades honing. He dove into it, eager to learn more about this infuriating man, and found himself nearly being flung back by his own shock. 

The General’s mind was still, for the most part, inaccessible, but not because of defences this time- the sheer output of arousal and lewd thoughts kept his mind unreadable, but in a brilliant red and white haze of lust. He abandoned the attempt to read his mind, and cast his thoughts out to ‘watch’ Hux -

-and froze, seeing the General just as his body arched off the mattress, bloody teeth and fingers, toes curling, a hand working furiously between writhing legs under the blankets, and the strangled hiss of an unmistakable orgasm…

“Fuck me,” he heard Hux moan.

And then he saw snatches of it as Hux relived the fantasy- of him, under Hux, being ridden, being bound, utterly at the General’s mercy, at his command, as the redheaded man rocked his hips over his own, as he leaned down and bit at his clavicle, his chest, his neck, leaving vivid bruises in the wake of his hot, eager mouth….

Ren pulled away, closed the connection, and sat back in his chair, wide eyed. He’d pried to get back at the General for spying on him- oh, he’d seen the camera, and given Hux a show- but this… It wasn’t too personal on behalf of the General, Kylo Ren cared not for personal boundaries of others. This, however, was personal in his own regard, and was utterly ridiculous. It would never happen, and it was completely, utterly, ridiculous. 

_Wasn't it?_


	6. Tension Builds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux learns about Kylo's parentage. Kylo learns he likes boot leather.

Hux was sitting at his desk, as Ren expected. The General was idly flipping through some datapad, likely browsing unnecessary reports, if his bored expression said anything. Grey-green eyes flicked up in his direction, and red brows knitted close together in a frown.

“Ren,” he said evenly. “Something I can do for you?”

Ren could sense the tension beneath the façade. He could FEEL it. He narrowed his eyes, striding over to the desk and slamming his hands on the smooth surface. The sound was loud in the quiet office.

“You want me.”

The reaction was just as he expected. Hux spluttered, the datapad falling from his gloved hands to the desk with a clatter. His cheeks grew flushed, eyes going wide as he struggled for words.

“You're ridiculous, Ren,” he managed, but Ren could practically hear the man's heart pounding against his ribs, calling him a liar.

“Am I? I wasn't the one writing in bed with fingers between his legs, thinking of my half naked body,” Ren growled. “You wished you'd seen me completely disrobe.”

Hux fell silent, his blood red cheeks speaking more than words could, and Ren smirked.

“What if I granted that wish?”

Hux gaped at him, mouth working wordlessly as Ren slid the belt from his waist and let it drop to the floor. Fingers moved over the waistband of his pants under his robes, and he let them fall, stepping out of them. He moved behind Hux's desk, pushing the front of his robes away to show off his pale toned thighs, lean hips, and his stiff cock- the sheer thrill of how brazen, how forward he was being had him aroused in a way he'd never been before. Hux continued gaping, unable to speak.

“The master of speeches is rendered silent, I see,” Ren growled. “You were fantasising about this... do you want it?”

“You're ridiculous and lewd and utterly brazen, and this is entirely unprofessional,” Hux managed at last, looking everywhere but at Ren's cock, the head of which had already started to bead with precome. “I am hardly in control of what I dream, take your.... your mess somewhere else. I will not stand for this harassment.”

“Dreaming? With your hand clenched between your teeth and the other stoking your fires until they explode?” Ren purred, leaning down and biting at Hux's ear.

Hux shuddered.

“I know you want me. I feel your desire. You want me to take you in this office right now. You want to put your lips on my cock and suck it dry. I see this in you, Hux... in more ways than one.”

He grinned at the awful innuendo he made, and moved his mouth along Hux's jaw, delighted as he felt the other man lean into the touch. He reached out and tangled fingers into the redhead's hair, pulling firmly to tilt his head up.

“You want me. Say it.”

Something visibly broke in the other man's face, and a shuddering sigh escaped him.

“I want you, Kylo Ren.”

Ren moved to sit on Hux's desk, ignoring the various datacards and and files as leaned back on his hands and spread his legs.

“Then you shall have me- if you worship me.”

Hux stared at him for a few moments before glancing down at his cock. He licked his lips, hesitating only a few minutes more before he pushed his chair between Ren’s thighs, leaned forward, took Ren's cock in his hands, and engulfed the head in his mouth.

Ren leaned back on his elbows, toes curling inside his boots as he let out a pleased sound. Hux was better at that than he expected, lips surrounding his shaft, tongue flicking over his head, under his foreskin, then circling back around and dipping into the slit, lapping at the precome. Long fingers cupped his balls, massaging and fondling, the fingers of his other hand gripping the base of his shaft, giving delicious pressure.

“Yes. Suck my cock, General. Good boy,” Ren moaned, shifting his weight to one arm so the other could reach forward and tangle fingers into Hux's hair again.

The General let out a humming sigh through his nose, and Ren watched as he slid his mouth over the shaft and back up again, strings of spittle trailing between his mouth and Ren's cock. Ren hissed and tightened his fingers in Hux's hair in warning. Hux resumed his work, running his tongue over the swollen head, along the underside of the shaft, before engulfing it in his mouth again, taking him almost down to the root.

“Yes..,” Ren groaned, writhing his hips against Hux's furiously working hands and mouth. “I've been wanting to make you put that smart mouth to work for once... Suck my cock...”

And then Hux bit down on his shaft.

Ren bolted upright to the sound of his alarm. His face was flushed, a sheen of sweat glistening on his face and shoulders, his hair mussed, damp and tangled. His sheets were twisted around him, and the tension in his loins was damning evidence that despite how much he wanted to deny it, he'd been having a lewd dream about Hux.

He ran fingers through his dishevelled hair, scowling before dragging his palm down his face. Why had he been dreaming about that slimy, simpering sycophant like that? He was above such basal needs, such ridiculous attractions and annoyances. He’d deserved being woken up with the horrible image of perfect white teeth biting down on his cock.

Ren slipped out of his sheets and hauled himself out of bed. He had to get ready. He was going back for more training, and the last thing he needed on his mind was images of himself involved with the uptight General.

 _He was thinking about you, though_ , he thought to himself as he peeled off his sweat soaked underclothes. _With his hand working furiously and his teeth breaking skin._

The sound of water hitting the floor broke the silence as Ren turned his shower on. He considered it a moment, eyeing the knobs. Hux's fantasy filled his mind again- him on his back, hands bound behind him as Hux straddled his hips, taking Ren's length into himself....

Ren turned the hot water off and made it as cold as he could stand it before pushing himself under the icy cold stream.

——

Hux was never late for anything. Often early, but never late. He had no intention of ever doing so. So instead of being late for his shift on the bridge during his attempt at avoiding Ren, he was a full two hours early- mainly because he couldn't sleep that night, not with the dreams he'd had. The cold shower certainly hadn't helped, either.

Hux watched the comings and goings of his crew, thanking a nervous Ensign- what was her name? Mynah Akarr, that was it- for handing him a mug of caff. Just the way he liked it, he noticed, black, with only a bare trace of sugar, and scalding hot. He noticed that Ren had not made his appearance. Phasma came, got her reports, nodded her greetings, and was gone on patrol, but Ren was nowhere to be seen.

When lunch came creeping around, and Ren still was absent, Hux hailed the Ensign. The short, stout young woman approached him nervously, her dark eyes wide. Hux noted her crisp uniform and the severe bun her hair was pulled back into- though he recalled the day before he'd seen her in the mess with it in a ponytail. The ponytail suited her more, he thought to himself idly. 

“Yes, sir?” She asked, standing at attention. Hux waved dismissively.

“At ease, Ensign. Tell me, has Kylo Ren destroyed something else and no one has deigned to inform me?” He asked.

Ensign Akarr blinked.

“No, sir. Lord Ren left the _Finalizer_ this morning, if I remember correctly. Took his shuttle and headed out,” she replied. “I was doing inspections on the landing gear of one of the TIE fighters that had seen some damage last fight. He was alone and said nothing to anyone, sir.”

Hux sighed to himself in relief. He was off ship. Likely doing some training or whatever it was Knights of Ren did. Perhaps hunting more Jedi to kill. Who knew. Still, the relief was palpable.

“Thank you, Ensign. I will be in my office, should anyone need me. That will be all,” he said, turning on his heel and departing the bridge, leaving a wide eyed Ensign staring after him curiously.

Hux took his lunch in his office, and for the first time in weeks, he truly relaxed. Now he could do digging on Kylo Ren without interruption, and figure out where he’d seen those eyes before…

————

It had been a shock, to say the least, when after hours of research over a few days, the final pieces fell into place, and Hux found himself staring at the records, the images, and finally, he’d mustered the courage to ask Snoke himself. He told the Supreme Leader that he asked out of concern- if he recognised the familiar eyes, surely someone else might, and it would benefit himself and the crew of the Finalizer if he knew the truth, and was able to smooth it over with lies should issues arise from it.

The Supreme Leader had been a mix of impressed at Hux’s sheer tenacity and impertinence at digging this deep and daring to approach him on the matter, and irritated that Kylo Ren’s parentage was now known to the General. 

“Yes,” he finally said, waving his gnarled hand dismissively. “Kylo Ren is the son of Leia Organa Solo, former padawan of Luke Skywalker. It matters not, as that man is dead, and only Kylo Ren exists. It would behove you, General Hux, not to mention this to anyone else.”

Hux had bowed, and ended the call with Snoke. His mind reeled. Ren was technically a Skywalker. It explained a great deal of his wanting to join the Order and hunt down the Resistance, and his and Snoke’s odd obsession with finding Luke Skywalker- they weren’t just trying to cut ties with some of the founding elements of the New Republic, they were trying to destroy them entirely. 

Or, they were trying to cut his ties to the Light Side, and enforce the heritage that was him being the grandson of Darth Vader, which fully explained Ren’s not-so-subtle obsession with the Sith Lord. Hux shuddered, remembering how he’d seen a glimpse of the charred, twisted remains of Vader’s helmet on a pedestal in Ren’s room. 

Still, it made Hux wonder what had happened to make the son of renowned Princess Leia Organa, and nephew of the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, to turn to the dark. It made him wonder what was going on under that mask, behind those surprisingly emotive eyes. Kylo Ren had become much more interesting to the General. 

It’d be a while before he’d see him again, however. 

Ren didn't return the next day. Or the day after. Hux enjoyed it, revelled in it at first. Repairs were done, no more damage was incurred, and the crew was practically cheerful in their routine. Phasma noticed, and increased training, as the men's morale was up. Hux even invited Phasma to his quarters for dinner, and they had an enjoyable meal wherein they agreed that while Ren was powerful, his absence was appreciated.

At least for the first few days.

Things were going smoothly to the point that Hux didn't have anything making him think. Nothing challenged him, no one challenged him. Routine was just that- routine. Ren wasn't there, making the men second guess their moves, or making Hux or Phasma work harder to prove their methods were on par with whatever it was that a Knight of Ren had. There was no exchange of heated conversation, and Hux realised with a jolt, he possibly enjoyed their altercations. An odd revelation to have, especially during his observation of a demonstration from his SpecForce TIE squadron. They’d come together to show off a new set of tactics and manoeuvres for their squadron that they’d hoped would be made a fleet-wide standard. 

He shrugged it off before going back to watching the display, impressed with the Alpha squadron the most- the leader flew impressive circuits, and her squadron flew seamlessly with her at point. Her gunner didn’t miss a single of the targets- disposable target droids- that were launched into the space outside the Finalizer. A truly impressive team, and Hux made note of it. 

The Special Forces TIES were an adaptation of the best of two ideas- the original TIE fighter from the Imperial lines, but with shields, hyperdrives and other improvements taken from the TIE Defender that Grand Admiral Thrawn had designed, but never saw to fruition, the Death Star taking precedence over his work- especially when he disappeared during the Siege of Lothal. The new TIES the Order had implemented and rolled out were the best of both designs, and were a force to be reckoned with- even against illegally and heavily modded X-Wings. Hux was extremely proud, and very pleased as he watched the SpecForces TIES finish their display and head back in perfect formation to the hangar bay. 

He watched as the squadron came in after their demonstration, ready to compliment them. The leader climbing out of her TIE was small, slender woman- this did not surprise him- he knew women were never to be underestimated. The pilot took off her helmet, her dark skinned face glowing with the thrill of flight, her amber eyes glittering as she tossed her head. Her black hair was done up in a long braid that had been coiled against the back of her head in order to fit under her helmet, but curls escaped, framing her face in a few places. 

Behind her, her gunner got out of the cockpit and removed his own helmet. He was tall, with a slender, lean build, and dark skin in an almost identical shade to his pilot’s. His hair was done in tight short braids that were close to his scalp, and his eyes were a brilliant blue-grey. He saw Hux looking, stiffened and saluted him, his face darkening slightly. Hux gave him a dismissive salute, but definitely cast a second, appreciative glance as the gunner went to work on tethering the TIE.

“Well done, Captain Aervon,” Hux commended as the pilot approached, helmet tucked under her arm. 

Captain Maetra Aervon beamed under his praise, shooting a surreptitious glance at Phasma that was clearly appreciative of the much taller woman- Aervon was barely above five feet tall, and with her slight, but toned build, she looked even smaller standing near the six foot six figure of Captain Phasma. There was an odd look that flashed over the smaller woman’s face, and the flush in her cheeks increased before she turned back to Hux. 

“Dash- er, Dashelle, my gunner- and I worked hard on the routine. I hope we did the Order proud, we’re aiming to make our procedures and tactics the standard for all TIE squadrons, not just SpecForces,” she said proudly. Hux actually smiled.

“One can never think the art of honing skills and proficiency is ever done. You did well, and I will require you to forward all details of your retinue to my office so I may forward them to the rest of the squadrons for review and immediate implementation,” Hux replied. “We need more forward thinkers like you, Aervon.”

Hux prided the Order for one thing- he did encourage creative thinking when it came to battle and suppression of the enemy. It was why the Empire had failed- creative thinkers had been ignored, or silenced in favour of bigger projects with more limitations. The thought made him wince as he thought of the superweapon Snoke had planned. Superweapons. A step back to the Empire, huge weapons in favour of superior and more flexible fleets. 

At least, in that regard, Hux had not been overruled. More Resurgent class battlecruisers were being made, and their fleet was already impressive enough- soon it would be dominant, and would exceed the Empire’s at its peak. Hux did not want to rely only on a superweapon that could easily end up blowing up in his face- quite literally. He wanted the Order to be above past mistakes of the failed Empire, and though he could not dissuade Snoke from the project, he at least, was able to continue building his fleet. 

He watched the pilots and their gunners head back to the ready-rooms to debrief, strip out of their flight suits and enjoy some liberty before he turned to Phasma, who was intently watching the retreat of Aervon’s small lithe form until she disappeared into the ready-room. Hux coughed. 

“Care to join me for some PT?” he asked lightly. Phasma seemed to physically pull herself from a trance and nodded. 

“After you, General,” she said gamely- she was always happy to spar with Hux, though she often commented he needed to build more muscle. This afternoon’s round of training was no different.

“You'll be disappointed,” he said later, off handedly realising it had been a full two weeks without Ren, smooth schedules, smooth routine, and smooth off time- as he and Phasma left the training room. “I can do all the training I physically am able, and I simply do not build muscle as well as you obviously do.”

Phasma snickered, wiping sweat from her brow as she took a long drink from her water bottle.

“Is that why you wear that coat, Hux?” She teased. Hux scowled to cover up the mildly embarrassed grin.

“You caught me,” he said in mock defeat. “I also wear shoulderpads.”

Phasma lifted a brow, clearly unsure if he was serious, and he chuckled.

“I jest. My physique simply doesn't build muscle well, regardless of the testosterone.”

“As long as you don't go soft,” Phasma quipped before draining her bottle. Hux make a hurt face.

“With you here? Perish the thought, dear Captain.”

Phasma laughed- a low, throaty sound, warm and almost soothing. A rare occurrence, to be said, but all the more appreciated for it. Hux wiped at his face, mopping sweat from his forehead and neck as they fell into companionable silence, heading for the private lifts. Hux really did enjoy Phasma’s company- he had worried that she’d find him weak for using hormones to facilitate his gender presentation, but she’d simply shrugged and said “We all do what we need to do, can’t ask or judge for any more than that.”

That had been that, and it was never a source of anxiety for Hux again. 

“Taking dinner in your quarters tonight?” Phasma asked, finally breaking the silence. Hux shrugged, flipping his towel over his shoulder.

“Most likely. I haven't had as much work doing finances and damage control- or babysitting for that matter. I might have a nice evening in with a drink, some music and a cigarra... or three,” he answered. Phasma wrinkled her nose.

“Enjoy your toxic fumes, then, General,” she sniffed in disgust that was only halfway feigned- her homeworld had been toxic, and she relished clean air. “I'll enjoy actual air while reading, I think.”

“Or while sharing some dinner with that SpecForce TIE pilot I saw you eyeing?” Hux prodded lightly with a smirk. 

Phasma actually coloured- not enough that a casual acquaintance would notice, but Hux did. The two parted ways with easy going good nights, and Hux slipped into his room. He felt good- good enough to indulge in a full half hour in the shower, enjoying the water as hot as he could stand it, taking the opportunity to take care of personal grooming he'd neglected along with his usual routine of bathing and shaving- deep conditioning his hair, going after his rough cuticles with a brush, and scrubbing at his elbows and knees to slough off dead skin.

He emerged from the refresher feeling like himself for the first time in months, wrapped in a towel. Without bothering to dress, he lit a cigarette and began pulling various moisturisers from his nightstand. He plopped onto his bed, a bit unceremoniously, and set to his post shower routine. It hit him as he paused in the middle of rubbing lotion into his feet, elbows and knees, that perhaps he had too much free time with Ren gone.

 _Rubbish_ , he thought tersely, tongue flicking his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other as he curled his toes in contentment, looking at his well groomed hands.

 _I don't need Ren around. He is nothing but trouble, and this past fortnight has been wonderful. Almost like a vacation without the hassle of working on the flimsywork for leave._

Hux leaned back on an elbow, fingers of his free hand wrapping around the cigarra as he took a long, luxurious drag. The Rashallo was not popular for rolling cigarras in the Order, but Hux had a great love for the oddly sharp, aromatic leaves and the even sharper, fragrant smoke they produced. It went well with his favourite brandy- an aged Chandrilan- which he poured himself two fingers of, neat.

Letting the brandy breathe in its glass, Hux stood and let the towel drop, moving to his closet and pulling out a pair of casual black slacks, a black tank and some underclothes. He dressed leisurely, but still tucked his shirt into his pants, and slipped a pair of socks and boots on- he might have been prepping for dinner and a quiet evening to himself, but he wouldn't be caught unprepared, should anything arise.

Long fingers reached over a haptic interface, and with another drag of his cigarra, Hux ordered some dinner to be brought to him, then settled into his chair at his desk. Another flick of fingers, and some dusk music began playing- a melody low, slow and dark with a minor key. Hux smiled- it reminded him of the cantatas that Sloane had found in the _Imperialis_.

 _I needed this,_ he thought, picking up his brandy and leaning back in his chair. The sweet burn of the brandy mingled with the sharp aromatic heat of the Rashallo, the soothing chill of the minor key of the music rubbed over his ears like a cool dark silk, and Hux closed his eyes blissfully. All he needed was a good shoulder massage and the evening would be perfect.

 _Or a good fuck_ , came the unbidden thought, and the image of Ren under his hips flashed in his mind. His eyes flew open and he scowled, putting out the stub of his cigarra in his ashtray.

 _Enough of that,_ he told himself. _He's practically a child, unpredictable, unreadable, utterly uncontrollable._

He took a swallow of brandy, feeling the heat run down his throat, the sweetness lingering on his tongue as he recollected himself, pushing the images out of his mind. He lit another cigarra and enjoyed a lungful of fragrant smoke, blowing rings towards the ceiling as his conflicted thoughts ran through his head.

Fortunately, a knock at his door distracted him. Hux got to his feet, setting down his glass as he headed for the door. Dinner would definitely be a delightful distraction. He frowned as his hand touched the panel- that was too quick, he realised. The door slid open, and Hux's face turned into a snarling scowl, his teeth baring and brow knitting furiously.

Ren was outside his door.

———

Ren had been thinking about his dream for two weeks, thinking about Hux's fantasy. His training had left him with a migraine that refused to dissipate, and his muscles ached, but the thought persisted. It had been hard, hiding his thoughts of the General from the Supreme Leader, but to his relief, and pride, he'd managed it. Learning to keep at least one corner of his mind hidden away from his master was nothing to laugh at, no matter how small the feat seemed. It gave him a new bit of respect for Hux managing to do it on a much grander scale.

What he couldn't get out of his head, however, was that no matter how he looked at his dream, it was ridiculous. Yes, he fantasised about dominating Hux, making him worship him as he should be. Yet, it was... wrong, forced. Like he was denying something very crucial.

The fantasy that Hux had had, however....

Ren swallowed, staring at Hux's door. What was he doing? Hux likely wanted nothing to do with him and the fantasy was spurred by revenge and the desire to dominate him after the needling he'd done. It was retaliatory, nothing more, nothing of substance behind it.

So why was his stomach tightening every time he thought about Hux binding his wrists behind his back and straddling him? Why was he overwhelmed with the desire to see Hux?

Ren reached out with a gloved hand and knocked on the door.

The door slid open, and it was apparent that Hux expected someone else, as his face went from quizzical to annoyed- almost to the point of rage. Ren swallowed, grateful for the cowl that covered his neck and shoulders to hide the movement of his throat.

Hux was freshly groomed, hair still damp, but meticulously combed into its usual style, a slight flush on his cheeks. He wore a black tank and pants, his arms bare, and it struck Ren how slender Hux really was. He was lean, but not nearly as toned as Ren had imagined due to his uniform and greatcoat. His hips were wider than he'd expected, his stomach not nearly as hard as he had imagined under the tight shirt. The sharp, fragrant scent of the cigarra that dangled from the corner of his mouth clung to him, as well as the sweet bright smell of brandy, and the unmistakable accompaniment of shoe polish.

Ren found himself speechless, if only for a moment. Seeing Hux out of uniform, relaxed- albeit highly irritated and unhappy to see him- was not something he'd expected to ever experience.

_He... he looks good._

Ren squashed the thought as Hux made a most unhappy scoffing sound.

“What do _you_ want, Ren?”

Ren sneered, putting his façade up again.

“You were not in the hangar bay to greet me.”

“You did not deign to tell me you were leaving, why should I care that you returned, when your absence was so delightful?” Hux shot back sourly.

“You didn't miss me? I'm hurt,” Ren simpered mockingly. He ignored the painful throb of his migraine making itself known in the back of his head.

Hux sighed, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe. With the flexing of his arms drawing his attention, Ren noticed Hux had a dusting of freckles over his shoulders and clavicle, and his stomach tightened inexplicably.

_Is his entire body covered with them?_

“What do you want, Ren?” Hux repeated in irritation.

“I want a report on what's been going on, what has conspired in my absence,” Ren replied, drawing himself up to his full height. Somewhere behind his left eye socket, pressure began building again, and pain lanced through the side of his face from eye to ear. Somehow, he kept from wincing.

“Progress, routine, and no damages or lowered morale, that is what has conspired,” Hux said dryly. “Nothing else to report other than the ship runs better when you are otherwise occupied and not terrorising her crew and tech.”

He moved to retreat back into his quarters.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I was going to enjoy my night, and you are quickly souring my mood.”

“Don't you turn away from me after insulting me like that, General,” Ren hissed, and he grabbed Hux's wrist, furious at being dismissed so casually, as if he were a lowly soldier without rank. He didn’t even know what he wanted from Hux, but he’d already started an argument, and it felt natural to continue it. 

He never would have expected the man to retaliate. Jerk away, yes, puff up and posture, most definitely so. But physically retaliating, that was the last thing Ren expected from the man he thought to be nothing more than a posturing bureaucrat. He was the apprentice of the Supreme Leader, he thought no one would dare to lash out physically against him.

So he was unable to stop Hux when he lashed out with a long leg and caught him in the knees with a boot. Already tired from two weeks of training and isolation, of two weeks of headaches and mental shielding of conflicted desires from his master, Ren had no time to react, only fall on his posterior in a tangled heap of limbs on the floor in front of Hux- who was seething. He attempted to get up, and Hux pressed his well polished boot to his chest, pushing him back down to the cold floor. 

“I keep order on this ship, Kylo Ren. This was _my ship_ before you showed up and started seeding disorder amongst my men with your temper tantrums, fuelled by your selfish, _individualistic_ desires that run counter to the First Order’s goals,” Hux growled, spitting out the word “individualistic” as though it tasted of filth.

“And now, I finally have an evening where I am caught up in cleaning up your messes while juggling handling reallocations of soldiers, resources, redistributing manpower and handling intel from multiple sources. I finally have a night to myself to unwind, and you show up at my door, manhandling me because you cannot bear to be treated like a child, despite constantly acting like one, Kylo Ren!”

His voice had started out calm, precise and modulated. As he continued, staring down at Ren, his voice rose, and there was a curious rolling to certain words- Reallocations, resources, redistributing- and his name- Ren.

Ren had known Hux had been born on Arkanis, but General worked hard on keeping an approximation of what was once an Imperial accent and was now the clipped, flat intonations of the First Order. However, as his anger rose, Ren could hear the slight Outer Rim accent rising, slipping loose, hints of rolling r’s and a slight burr to his voice that he recalled hearing in recordings of Tarkin’s propaganda. 

_Stars, why is this all so... appealing?_ Ren wondered, staring up in disbelief into Hux's face.

Hux putting his boot on his chest, pressing him to the floor, growling at him in fury, his Arkanis accent hissing through his demands, and Ren found himself breathless. His heart was pounding, and the pain in his head was secondary to the arousal that was spreading through him at the situation he found himself in. 

_No. No. I am not-_

“Go to your room, Kylo Ren. Leave me alone,” Hux ordered.

And with that, he slammed his door shut, and the sound of it locking followed suit.

Ren sat there on the floor, mind whirling. This was not how he'd intended his evening to go. He'd wanted to argue, to berate, to corner Hux and eventually cajole an explanation out of him on why he'd been pleasuring himself to the images of dominating him. Now, he was sitting, stunned, on the floor outside Hux's room, with images of being dominated by Hux.

After a few minutes, Ren finally climbed to his feet, and managing not to stagger, made the retreat to his room, confused and hating himself.

He needed a cold shower.

After his shower, he paced, not bothering to dress, save for a pair of briefs. Dinner had been delivered to his to his chambers- the nervous trooper leaving it by the door when Ren growled at them. Now, he picked at it. His migraine was coming back, and was killing his appetite as it did so. He ate what he could, then began to pace again.

He envied people like Hux, like Phasma, who could simply take painkillers to rid themselves of pain. He couldn't keep his mental strength up when addled by narcotics, analgesics or serotonin based medications. He had to settle for meditation, caffeine, or other herbal supplements- or something that would put him to sleep straight-away.

He lowered the temperature in his room, and turned off all the lights before spreading out over his sheets, long pale limbs sprawling out over the black cloth. A shudder escaped him- a mixture of repressed lust, pain, exhaustion and confusion- and rolling over to lay on his back, he pulled a pillow over his face, and willed himself to sleep.

——— 

Hux barely touched his meal once it arrived. He still felt Ren's hand on his wrist, and he couldn't get the image of the Knight on the floor in front of him, and the lack of protest when he'd ordered him to go back to his room- and how good it felt.

 _It's natural to want to dominate the man_ , Hux told himself, making himself slide a forkful of brualki into his mouth. _He is constantly undermining your authority and challenging your position._

Still, the images were continuing, and Hux could do little to stop them. When he’d put his foot to Ren's chest, growling his name-

“No. Not doing this,” he told himself, feeling a familiar flush of heat rise in his loins. “No.”

He scarfed his meal down with less enthusiasm than before, especially now that it was cool. Reaching into a drawer, he pulled out a tube- melatonin. Popping one with the rest of his tea, he got to his feet. He'd already taken a shower, but he headed back into the refresher, shedding his clothes as he did so. This time, it was a quick and cold shower.

The melatonin kicked in just as Hux was drying himself off, and for the first time in nearly a decade, Hux fell into bed without combing his hair- or even getting dressed.


	7. Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux finds Ilum. Kylo is butthurt, and breaks Hux's leg with a prank. Hux blackmails him- Kylo kinda digs it.

The pair avoided each other for as long as they possibly could. Hux found excuses to leave the room in the rare occurrence that Ren ever made the mistake of being in the same space as him. They found themselves changing direction and route if they saw each other in the corridors, and both took their meals in their quarters. Eventually, Ren could put it off no longer.

They'd been searching through various systems for the awkward weeks during which the two men had been surreptitiously avoiding one another, when Ren insisted on changing the Finalizer's course. He insisted that the small system in the Unknown Regions held what they were looking for, that they would find the planet destined to be their new weapon. It was Hux, however, who found the planet, and he reluctantly called Ren to the bridge to confirm. 

Ren came onto the bridge, his stride that of a drowsy predator. He'd obviously been woken up by Hux's summon, or dragged from a deep meditation. Hux was willing to bet on the latter, given that was all the man did lately. 

_At least he hasn't attacked my ship as of late,_ Hux thought to himself. 

“What is it?” Ren growled. Hux simply pointed to the viewport, letting the sight speak for itself. 

A snowy planet was before them, readouts surrounding the command console at which Hux stood, various analyses firing across the displays. 

“Ilum,” Hux said lightly, aware that this was the first time they'd been this close since he'd kicked Ren away from his room almost a month ago, but he shrugged it off. This was no time to be thinking of such things. 

The planet had been the source of many crystals for many Sith, Jedi and every lightsaber wielding force user in between for millennia. After the Clone Wars, Palpatine had had the location of the planet scrubbed from every record, so that no one else but himself and his apprentice, Vader, would have access to the coveted kyber crystals that ended up becoming an important part of most turbolasers and the main weapon of the Death Stars themselves. It had taken much scouring and extrapolating on Hux’s part, and many hours, days, months of meditation on Ren’s part. But now, they’d found it. 

“Cold, abandoned, as far as scans indicate,” he added. “Highly mountainous, with forests and predominantly non-threatening wildlife. No sapient life- uninhabited for the most part- too remote, too cold to warrant anyone venturing out this way and establishing any sort of port. Only sign of habitation is the remnants of the last few Jedi coming for kyber crystals.” 

The last bit was spoken with a curl of his lip, a sneer of disdain. He turned, looking for the Knight's reaction. Ren stared at the planet for a few minutes, obviously thinking, looking- _feeling_. Hux started to scowl at his dragged out silence when Ren finally spoke. 

“Well done, General. This is indeed it. We've found it,” he said at last, moving to look over Hux's shoulder at the readouts. 

Hux kept his face calm in the serene mask he always wore- a mirror to the horrifying visage Ren always sported- but the surprise roiled through him at Ren's compliment, especially given the tension between them the past month. He also was very aware of how close Ren was, how he could feel the heat radiating from the other man's body, even though the thick cloth of his greatcoat. He clamped his mind on the thought as he felt a semi-familiar pressure between his eyes. 

_I can compliment when and where it is due,_ Ren said softly in his mind, oddly gentle, subdued. He walked away.

“Have my shuttle prepared. We will scout the surface immediately.”

“I will inform Phasma to send a squadron with you,” Hux replied, slipping back into business mode as he tried not to shudder at how gentle, how soft Ren's voice had been, almost like a caress in his mind.

Ren paused. 

“I meant you, General.”

Hux turned to face him and lifted a brow. 

“Come again?”

Ren canted his head to the side, a perfect mix of horrifying and amusing, given his mask. 

“You found it. Surely you would like to christen the spot where we first break ground?”

Hux wasn't sure what Ren wanted by taking him along, but he knew the Knight was appealing to his pride- or trying to get him to back down from a possibly miserable mission in front of his subordinates. However, the thought of being in a shuttle with Ren, then traipsing through the snow with him, or on snow speeders, was not something he wanted. 

Hux hated the cold. Chilly, mild, balmy temperatures, he was fine with. Bitter, snowy, icy weather with biting winds, deep snow and frost? Not so much. He was thinking of the layers, the thermal underclothes he would have to dig out of his storage, the extra gear he would have to take. 

_I'll keep you warm, your Highness,_ came the sneering reply, and Hux mentally shuddered at the word “Highness” for reasons he couldn't explain. 

_Get out of my head, Ren,_ Hux replied, glowering. _And I do not need your coddling, you creature of ice._

 _You were just thinking about how warm I am, and you are hardly one to speak of ice, when you are so frigid you can freeze flame,_ Ren teased. _That aside, if you don't want me hearing your thoughts, maybe stop shouting them._

 _Turn off your mind-reading,_ Hux snapped. _I am not like you, I don't know how those things work._

 _I can't turn it off,_ Ren sighed, almost resignedly. _It's what- who- I am. That aside, you were all but shouting it. I’d be surprised if my Knights didn’t hear you down in the hangar bay._

Hux continued grousing, going through his datapad to inventory his cold-weather gear. He wasn’t comfortable knowing that somehow, Ren’s initial breach of his mind had somehow cracked the outer walls of his mind, and now Ren was one step closer to his inner partitions. Or worse… he was letting his guard down around Ren because the man had already gotten a foothold in his mind. 

_Come scout with me, Hux._

_Why the insistence?_ Hux asked, frowning at the count of thermal underclothes he had in his inventory. 

A long silence from Ren before he finally answered.

 _The Supreme Leader wants us to cooperate more. We cannot fight and cause discord in the ranks, even if I am not part of your military,_ he finally said. _Work with me, Hux._

 _Say “Please,”_ Hux sneered, not believing this simpering for an instant- also wanting to rile Ren up. 

Another bout of silence, then-

_General.... please._

Hux felt his stomach tighten, his neck flushing under the high collar of his tunic- that he was suddenly grateful for. A simple word, and it was exhilarating in a way he didn't want to explain to himself. 

“Very well, Ren,” he replied at last, tucking the datapad into his pocket. “I have the adequate supplies, and will meet you in the hangar bay in an hour.” 

“Half an hour,” Ren amended. “No need to waste time.”

Without waiting for Hux's argument, he turned and left the bridge. 

———

Hux decided that his opinion on the cold had not changed for the better. If anything, it had worsened from dislike to outright hatred. He was bundled up, wearing thermal underclothes, his tunic and pants, his greatcoat, a thermal cap- complete with a face mask and snow goggles- and an insulated overcoat. 

Hux felt ridiculous as he made his way through the snow, but at least he was warm. 

Ren, however, strode past him- on top of the snow, Hux noticed with a scowl- with no small amount of derision whispering from his mind into Hux's, wearing his usual attire without any extra weather proofing additions. This made Hux feel all the more the fool, and he became convinced that the Knight had done this on purpose. 

_I hate him so much,_ Hux decided for the umpteenth time that day. 

_The feeling is very mutual, but I can easily get over it, since you make for such an amusing sight, bundled up like a jawa,_ Ren shot snidely at Hux’s too-loud thought as he crossed over the surface of the snow without effort. 

Hux hated him. Truly, utterly hated him, and he did his best to broadcast the thought and emotion as loudly as he could. His satisfaction was immense as he actually saw Ren flinch from the intensity of it. 

They'd touched down in the trench excavated by Sith of old, utilised by Jedi, and plundered by the occasional scavenger, then further deepened by the Empire. Hux surveyed the area with his macrobinoculars, distaste clearly written on his face at the sight of the entrance to the ancient temple that was also the entrance to the system of caverns that contained the precious, priceless kyber crystals that would be the heart of many weapons. His troops reported that there were remains, long reduced to bone and dust inside the temple, but no further signs of inhabitation. There was a comment that at least one of the piles of bones had a lightsaber among them, long defunct and worthless.

 _Good riddance to filth,_ Hux sneered to himself. 

_On that, General, we are agreed,_ Ren replied quietly. 

“General!”

Hux turned to face the approaching Lieutenant. The trooper saluted, then relaxed as Hux dismissed his stiff posture with a gesture for him to report. When he started talking again, his voice was notably bright and less intimidated than when he'd hailed his Commander. Hux found it important to make sure his soldiers knew he respected them- it made it easier for them to trust him, in and out of combat, which made it easier for them to follow orders. 

“One of the storage caches- the empty one, sir- it was a cover. There's a subterranean basement inside leading a system of caves and tunnels that go under the mountains. We've sent a probe down to scan the system, as well as look for possible traps or obstacles the Jedi may have left,” the Lieutenant reported. 

Hux lifted a brow, taking the datapad held out to him. The display showed a rapidly increasing system of tunnels, caves and even a subterranean water system as the probe droid mapped out the underground. Hux was impressed. By the look of it, there was a mix of man made and natural tunnels, and they spread a decent distance from the entry point. Some tunnels ended in chambers, in which the probe reported some tech, and a few other tunnels emerged distances away as escape tunnels. 

“Very good, Lieutenant,” Hux replied, satisfied. “It looks as though the Jedi had attempted to make this into something more than just a pilgrimage site- or even possibly smugglers that were driven out by the Jedi… but neither party finished. This will actually cut some of our work out and push the ETA for completion by at least a week.” 

Hux was very pleased- which made the trooper pleased as well, and he returned to his work with a bright step in his gait. Hux watched him go, and he was starting to have less grievances about coming down on the scouting trip, given that his men were getting some needed inspiration and morale boosts. 

A thought tugged at him. Where was Ren? Hux frowned, scanning the snow for the black-clad figure that had become begrudgingly familiar to him. All he saw was the dizzying movement of his troops as their white armour nearly blended in with the snow. The Knight was nowhere to be seen. In the temple already?

 _Of course he's disappeared,_ he scowled. _Probably finding some obscure thing to claim 'The Force' had drawn him to or something else preposterous._

The latter thought was on purpose, and as loud as he could manage- at least he thought it was, he had no idea how thinking loudly enough for Ren to hear worked, exactly, but he still tried. Riling Ren up would be the best way to bring him out into the open, he assumed. 

_Over here,_ came the call, pressure lancing through Hux's head. He sighed. 

_What is it._

_In the temple, get in here._

Hux sighed and began making his way in the direction Ren had indicated, grumbling to himself about how insufferable Ren was, and how he hated him and-

-just inside the temple’s cavernous entrance, the snow gave way under his feet, and for a split second, nothing was holding the General aloft but the momentum of his own forward movement, but that faded, and all consuming panic washed over Hux as the ground swallowed him. 

“General!” He heard a trooper cry somewhere above him before he hit his head on something- hard- and a wrenching pain shot through his leg like a rancor chewing on the bone itself as there was a wet crack somewhere in the darkness that now surrounded him. 

_That was a very odd sound. Why did a sound make my leg hurt?_ Hux thought vaguely before the darkness that surrounded him took him over completely. 

Ren emerged from the tunnel he'd discovered just in time to see Hux go disappearing under the snow, and troopers swarming over the hole he'd fallen into. Ren felt his face drain of blood, and a curse escaped him. 

Yes, he knew there were pitfalls surrounding the temple entrance- he'd purposely wanted to get Hux to stumble over one on his way to see what Ren had “found,” and make a fool of himself by falling on his face. Not falling underground and -

He probed in Hux's direction, only to be met with blackness and white hot pain that threatened to pull the General from his state of unconsciousness. Ren probed further, looking for the source of pain. He hissed beneath his mask as he felt the source of pain and was exposed to the raw nerves that were screaming- Hux had broken his leg.

“Move,” he ordered the troopers as he approached the edge of the pitfall. Peering down, he could barely see Hux crumpled at the bottom, looking rather helpless. The cause of the break was obvious- Hux's boot had caught on a rock as he'd fallen, and his leg had twisted. 

“Getting a stretcher brought out immediately, my Lord,” the Lieutenant said. “Shall we go down and get him, or get a lift?”

“I'll get him,” Ren said, and without a word, he leapt down into the pit. 

Hux was silent, his snow mask and goggles askew to reveal his pale, ashen face, and the way he was sprawled on the ground was very unlike the General that Ren had come to know. Inexplicably, he felt a pang of guilt- and a jolt of panic.

_I meant to make a fool of you, not break you. The Supreme Leader will be furious if he finds out that my petty arguments and rivalry with you caused me to bring you to harm._

The Supreme Leader didn’t like Hux, but he valued him- Ren couldn't deny that. The irreversible factor of Hux being the centre of the troopers’ indoctrination was the main reason Hux was invaluable. Without him, the troopers would only listen to Snoke- who kept himself sequestered on the Supremacy, giving his directives through Hux. New troopers, however, would be a much more uncertain subject, as how could they used Hux’s program without him? And Ren had endangered him out of spite- a foolish act that would result in dire repercussions if the true nature of the accident was found out. 

Never mind that despite the fact that she was retired, Ren actually feared incurring the wrath of Rae Sloane, should she find out he’d caused harm to her adopted son. 

Swearing to himself, Ren knelt by the prone General, mindful of the broken leg. Keeping Hux's neck perfectly still, he examined the man's head, checking the rapidly blooming contusion on the side of his temple. He prodded gently with his mind again.

_Hux. Wake up. I need you to move your hands and toes._

Ren wasn't sure if he'd injured his neck or back in the fall, and he didn't want to move him if that were the case. A groan told him he'd managed to push past the veil of unconsciousness, and Hux let out a stream of swears- with an unmodulated, uncontrolled accent to match that had chills running down Ren's spine. 

“Leg,” he managed, trying to move. Ren stilled him. 

“I know,” he said quietly. “Move your fingers. Wiggle your toes. Can you do that?”

Hux clenched his teeth, and there was the creak of leather as toes moved inside the boots. Ren let out a sigh of relief. Good. No back injury, then. He'd gotten the man's leg broken, but at least he hadn't crippled him. 

Hux murmured something Ren couldn't hear, and the Knight bent over him. 

“What?”

Another mutter, and despite the troopers leaning over the opening of the pitfall, Ren pulled off his mask to listen closer. 

“What, General?”

He was answered by a fist to his face, leather encased fingers, stiff, cold and wet from the snow, crashing into his mouth. 

Ren jerked back as his lip was split over his teeth, blood immediately flowing freely over his chin. Hux glowered up at him with flashing eyes, pupils dilated from pain, his teeth bared and breath coming in tight gasps. Ren was taken aback, but also impressed- Hux had an impressive right hook.

“You knew,” he hissed. “Damn your pride, Ren.”

Between the pain and exertion of punching Ren, Hux slipped into unconsciousness again. Ren was silent- he deserved that, he admitted, as he put his mask back on. Carefully, he slid his arms under the General, and mindful of his leg, he pulled him up. Hux was lighter than Ren had expected- even with the cold-weather gear on. The limbs under the clothing were toned, but slender, and Hux's frame was lean, lithe. He’d _seen_ how slender Hux was compared to himself before, but having the man in his arms only confirmed the difference in their builds.

 _Probably wears that greatcoat to add to his frame,_ came the amused afterthought as Ren coiled his muscles, drawing from the Force and leaping from the pit lightly, Hux in his arms. The troopers already had a stretcher out, the field medic immediately beckoning Ren to lay Hux out on it. Ren gently laid Hux down and stepped away. 

“Broken leg,” he commented with disinterest, cold and detached. “Best get him back to the ship before he goes into shock here in the cold.” 

The troopers filed after him back to the shuttle, and the entire scouting party was silent as the trip was made back to the _Finalizer_. 

———

Hux awoke to the sound of beeping and metal clattering- and the very uncomfortable sensation of a bed that was not his own, all overlaid with the throbbing of his leg and an ache in his head. He carefully cracked his eyes open, only to have shrieking pain lance through his head as the lights stabbed into his eyes, and he wrenched them shut again with a moan, hands covering his face. He then registered that his right hand also ached- and remembered that he had punched Kylo Ren in his smug, impertinent mouth. 

“Ah, you're awake, General!” 

Hux peered between his fingers to see a woman in a typical white doctor’s coat heading his way, an Emdee trundling behind her. Her long straight hair was black, but shone with violet tones under the light, and her full lips were pursed in concern. The lead medical officer, and his personal physician- Doctor Leta Weyland. Hux was glad to see her, as she was the best in the fleet- and her place on the Finalizer had been by his command. She moved to his bedside, her bright aqua blue eyes studied him, taking inventory of his condition on the readouts as the droid held out a container.

“I wish I weren't,” he groaned, despite himself. 

“Emdee has your painkillers, General, if you would sit up and take them for me, please?” Weyland coaxed. 

Hux didn't need to be told twice, holding out his hand, palm up as he propped himself up with the other arm. Pills were deposited into his palm, and Hux immediately popped them into his mouth. He held his hand out again and a small cup of water was pressed into his grasp. Hux downed the contents, swallowing the pills and letting out a small gasp as the water made him realise how thirsty he was. The Emdee, unprompted, refilled his cup, and Hux downed it greedily.

“No intravenous or intramuscular painkillers, then?” He croaked when the cup was empty- and refilled yet again. 

The doctor nodded to the IV in Hux's arm. 

“You had a dose to keep you out post-op. I can add more to your drip if need be, but the pills should suffice. Signal Emdee Two if the pain is too much after an hour or two.”

Hux ran fingers through his hair and grimaced. 

“How long have I been out?”

“Two days,” the droid chirped.

“Along with a concussion, you had a comminuted fracture of your tibia, and surgery was needed- a metal pin was placed in the bone to reset it and a mesh was placed around the break site to hold the pieces together until the bone has healed,” Weyland told him. “Luckily, intra-medullary nailing was not necessary for the break, nor did you need bacta immersion. You should be back on your feet in a few weeks, General. I also took the liberty of removing your hormonal implant and doing some maintenance on it, refilling and replacing it while you were under. It was almost time for the bi-yearly tune up, in any case.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Hux said gratefully as he downed his water and put it on the bedside table. The droid still refilled it, but Hux left it for now, his thirst mostly slaked. 

Refilling his implant was a minor annoyance every six months, but the maintenance required every two years was actually a small ordeal in that it required the small implant to be removed from his hip, cleaned, fine tuned, calibrated, refilled, and replaced. It was small, no bigger than the tip of his pinky finger, but it still put him out of commission for a few hours. As usual, Doctor Weyland was efficient- the reason he had employed her as his personal physician for over a decade. 

“My offer to do a full oopho-hysto still stands at any time, General,” she told him bluntly. “It would increase the time between refills without the plumbing interfering. Was the best thing I ever did for myself.”

“I want to keep it. I do have a legacy to think of eventually,” Hux replied, but as always, the offer was tempting, and as always, Weyland shook her head, amused.

“Military types and legacies. I _can_ freeze it all and put it back in once you decide it’s time to start that legacy.”

“Unnecessary resources wasted when I can keep it right where it is,” Hux sighed, the tone of an old argument in his voice. She shrugged, and marked some notes on his chart, satisfied with his condition. 

“How long until I am completely back into my full range of motion?” Hux inquired.

“Two months, with proper therapy, but that greatly depends on you not over-exerting yourself for the next four weeks,” the Emdee interjected brightly before she could answer. Hux sighed. 

“And how long will I be in the medical bay?” 

Hux longed for his non-regulation bed, with the multiple blankets and unnecessary amount of pillows. The med bay was cold, and the single pillow under his head, along with the stiff mattress, lent to no small amount of misery- unnecessary misery, given the throbbing of his leg and an itch under the thin cast that was slowly but surely driving him mad. 

“It is advised you stay for another few days, sir,” the droid said politely, clearly not understanding why the human was so impatient to leave.

 _If I see Ren,_ Hux growled to himself. _I'll kill him. No. I'll have him thrown out the airlock, and I'll watch him slowly depressurise and asphyxiate in the vacuum of space. Let's see his precious Force or his stupid mask save him **then.**_

As if summoned by Hux's hatred, Ren appeared at the door. Hux shot a glare in his direction that would have sent any of his subordinates fleeing in terror for their immediate well being, but Ren simply stood there, staring in his direction. 

“ _ **Go away**_ ,” Hux spat, all vitriol and venom as he did his best to shift his weight to one side in order to present an unwelcoming front to the Knight. The sudden, immature urge to throw his pillow at the man filled him, and it was his discomfort from the bed, and the knowledge that throwing the pillow would only increase the discomfort, that kept him from doing so. 

“Leave us,” Ren commanded. Weyland obeyed, but did not look happy about it, following the Emdee, who had immediately left without a word, shutting the door behind them. 

“Get out,” Hux hissed. “This situation is your bloody fault, and I ought to inform the Supreme Leader that your _pride_ had you playing childish jokes on me that nearly got me killed. Let's see how proud of his _apprentice_ he is, then!”

Ren sat in the chair beside his bed, pulling his mask off. His thick hair tumbled over his shoulders, and it struck Hux again how _young_ Ren looked, and how his features didn't match the masked image of the unstable, powerful Force user that everyone was nervous in the company of. His heavy lidded brown eyes -Leia Organa Solo’s eyes- were plaintive, his full plush lips parted slightly, obviously measuring the words on the tip of his tongue carefully. Hux noticed his lower lip was swollen and bruised, a scab down the middle where it’d split, and he smirked, pleased there was still evidence of his retaliation.

“You punched me,” Ren said quietly. 

“You deserved it,” Hux spat. 

Ren's face screwed up painfully. 

“You weren't meant to break your leg. You weren't meant to fall in that pit. I... missed that one,” Ren finally admitted. “There was a small dip, filled with snow. I wanted you to hit that one and fall on your face.”

A long pause, then the words came out like vomit, and Ren couldn't seem to stop himself. 

“It was my task to find the suitable planet for the weapon, _especially_ this planet. Ilum, of all places, so full of importance to those who use the Force, and you just stumble on it while I am meditating, looking for it, and you have the respect of the crew, and they follow you into everything and anything. I couldn't stand having you take what was supposed to be _mine._ I wanted to make you feel humility,” he prattled, not meeting Hux's gaze. 

Hux believed him. It was something stupid, selfish and so _very like Ren._ It was the selfish individualism that made Hux loathe Ren to his core, because his personal desires ran opposite of the Order's most days. Believing him, however, did not make the events on the surface okay, however. 

“Your selfish desires cost us time and resources. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't inform the Supreme Leader of your childish behaviour, Kylo Ren,” Hux growled, squirming slightly as his leg gave another throb, the itch by his calf increasing to a maddening level. 

Ren glanced at Hux's leg, and frowned ever so slightly. A split second later, Hux visibly shuddered in relief as the itch under his cast ceased, as though invisible nails were running over the irritated skin. He blinked, looking at Ren. 

“You-”

“I didn't mean for it to happen. Not this badly,” Ren said quietly. 

Hux remembered how good it had felt to hear Ren pleading with him before their descent. How good it had felt to have Ren doing as he asked. A small smile played over his lips. 

“This is your doing, Ren. You will take responsibility for it, or I will make sure the Supreme Leader knows just how childish you are,” he said quietly. “You will take care of any needs I cannot attend to myself while my leg heals.” 

Ren gaped at him, but no words came out of his open mouth. 

_You're serious._

_I am._

Ren was quiet for another few minutes, then he inhaled, a long, ragged breath through his nose. 

“Very well. Until your leg heals.” 

Smirking, Hux patted Ren's hand. 

“Good. First thing I want you to do is bully that blasted droid into letting me go back to my room. This bed should be considered a crime against humanity. Then you will take me back to my quarters, and have dinner brought to me.”

Ren hesitated, but the look on Hux's face and his tone had him wanting to obey, had him wanting to please the General- and not just to keep him from telling his Master of his misdeeds. 

“As you wish,” he finally said, getting up and leaving the med bay. 

Hux watched him go, a wicked light glittering in his eyes. 

———

It was late when Ren finally came for Hux. The Emdee had already disconnected Hux's IV after another dose of painkillers, and had dressed him in a more dignified set of clothing. A plain black tank and black sleep pants that Hux was less than pleased with, but far more dignified than the open backed medical gown. Hux had no desire to flaunt his pale, freckled ass to anyone on his way to his quarters, and he doubted anyone wanted to see just how pale his ass really was. 

“Dinner is being brought to your quarters, General,” Ren said softly, as though restraining himself from holding any rage in his voice. 

Hux lowered the rails on his bed, but didn't move. Ren sighed mentally, then moved to Hux's bedside. Mindful of Hux's leg, Ren slid his arms under his shoulders and knees, lifting him. Once again, he was taken aback by the fact that, despite Hux's height, he was slender, but the lean cut of his build hid the wiry strength in his frame. 

“Certainly took your time,” Hux muttered, wrapping an arm around Ren's shoulders to steady himself in the Knight's arms. Ren snorted. 

”And have the entire ship see me carrying you like a maiden off to your room?” Ren growled.

Hux shot him a truly acidic look that gave even Ren pause, but he said nothing to counter for that argument, electing to simmer in silent rage as Ren carried him. Again, Hux was too aware of how warm Ren was, especially now that he was dressed in thin layers. 

The trip back to Hux's quarters was short, uneventful, and without any encounters. Ren was surprisingly gentle as he laid Hux on the bed and helped him sit up by arranging pillows behind him at the General's insistence. Dinner was already waiting on Hux's desk, and Ren carried it over, setting it on a tray over Hux's lap. Hux almost considered asking Ren to feed him, but immediately squashed the thought, ignoring the tightening in his throat at the idea- mainly because the true thought was that he’d rather be the one feeding Ren, and with his fingers. 

_Damn these traitorous thoughts,_ he seethed to himself in the safer part of his mind. _Why is this even a recurring desire I keep having?_

“Anything else?” Ren asked, his voice strained. Hux lifted a brow as he slowly, deliberately slid a spear of asparagus in his mouth. He let the silence fill his room as he chewed, his eyes never leaving Ren's. 

“Stay until I finish eating, so you can set my tray by the door. I can't very well sleep with a dinner tray on my bed,” he said smoothly, cutting off a piece of roast and enjoying the mouthful. 

Ren stood at the foot of his bed awkwardly, watching him eat his dinner. Finally, Hux sighed. 

“Just sit,” he said, exasperated. “Stop looming over my bed like some odd spectre.” 

He'd meant the chair at his desk, but Ren perched on the end of his bed, long legs stretching out and crossing at the ankles. It made Hux realise that Ren's height was mostly leg. Ren folded his hands in his lap and continued eyeing Hux. 

“Are my dinner habits that fascinating, Ren?” Hux asked dryly as he cut off another piece of roast, spearing it with his fork and swirling it in the white cheese sauce drizzled over his plate. Ren shrugged. 

“I haven't met many people who enjoyed food as much as you,” he admitted. Hux lifted a brow, fork pausing between his lips. Ren was painfully aware of the daub of sauce on Hux's lower lip, and he looked away. 

“Everyone has their indulgences,” Hux replied after swallowing. 

“And yours is food, then?” Ren asked. 

“Amongst other things, yes. When one grows up on ship fare, military rations, and nutrient paste, it’s hard to deny oneself the pleasure of actual food.”

His tongue darted out and licked his lips clean- and Ren rolled his shoulder, the joint popping loudly in the silence. 

“Other things,” he mused. “Like spying on me while I change?” 

Hux began coughing in the middle of drinking a long quaff of tea, and he set his mug down, pounding on his chest as his ribs heaved. Ren smirked, but got up and pushed Hux forward to give the General a firm smack between his shoulder blades. Hux coughed a few more times, but eventually quieted, his face red and eyes watering. 

_You were hoping I wouldn't bring that up, weren't you?_

_You deserved it, probing into my mind, Ren,_ Hux growled, still wheezing and unable to reply verbally. 

_You liked the show, though._

Hux wiped at his eyes with his napkin, but refused to answer. Ren simply went back to sitting on his bed again with a smirk. 

_Though, to be fair, I got a show myself. Of sorts. I still can’t completely get into your head, but I did see you-_

Hux nearly overturned his tray. 

“ _ **OUT**_.”

The laughter that issued from Ren was deep, throaty, but youthful and exuberant- very unlike what Hux had expected from him. 

_Is that why you wanted to humiliate me, then?_ Hux demanded, shoving another large forkful of food into his mouth. He figured it was in his best interest to stop indulging in his dinner and simply eat it before he did overturn the tray in rage from another prodding from Ren. 

_I told you why I did it. You stole my thunder,_ Ren said simply. _Or do you simply wish to change the subject and hear me admit my folly again?_

 _We'll go with that, yes,_ Hux replied, finishing his meal and draining the rest of his tea with a handful of pills. Ren got up and took the tray away without being asked and sat back down on the bed- closer to Hux this time. 

_You are maddening, General Armitage Hux,_ Ren said quietly, his dark brown eyes searching Hux's. Hux felt his heart pound against his sore ribs, but he met Ren's gaze unfalteringly. 

_So says the man wearing the same colour,_ Hux countered. 

There was a long, heavy silence between them, neither breaking their gaze, and Hux wished he'd just leave, go anywhere, as long as he wasn't sitting half a breath away, staring into his eyes. 

_Why did you have that running through your head? And don't ask what, you know what I'm talking about,_ Ren finally said in his mind, his tone gentle, curious. 

_There are a lot of thoughts involving you that I have had in my head, Ren,_ Hux said bluntly. _They involve a great many things. Choking you, spacing you, throwing you under the proverbial engines in front of the Supreme Leader, take your pick._

_What about binding my wrists behind me, General? At least, I think it was my wrists- as I’ve said, your mental partitions are **impressive.**_

Hux swallowed, hard. Ren was still staring at him, head cocked curiously, the corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, enjoying watching the man squirm.

 _I could easily be content with having you gagged as well, Kylo Ren,_ Hux finally said, regaining his composure. _Wanting to control someone who is constantly a state of random aggravation and uncontrollable damage or setbacks is natural._

_If that was all you were imagining, I would agree, but there was a great deal more to it than that._

Hux shuddered, and was grateful for many various things in his life at that moment. One of which being that even if he wasn't under three layers of blankets, he wouldn't have needed them at that moment. 

_Fine. You are not an unattractive man, Kylo Ren,_ he conceded begrudgingly. _Between that and my desire to have you under control and no longer causing me endless headaches, an errant fantasy- one of which will not be repeating itself- formed in my head._

Ren grinned- a tight, wolfish grin. His teeth were very white, very straight, and they practically glittered in the light.

_Of course, General Hux. It won't happen again, even though you like telling me what to do. You liked hearing me say 'please.'_

Hux flushed despite himself. 

“Says the man who didn't put up nearly as much of a fight before saying 'please,' or agreeing to do as I wished while I heal. Who didn't wait for me to ask you to carry me to my room, or tuck me into bed. One would almost think you _enjoyed_ being my manservant, Kylo Ren,” Hux said aloud to break the silence that seemed to weigh a metric tonne, and felt as thick as honey. 

The grin faded from Ren's face, replaced by a look of conflict, then anger. 

“I feel no pleasure in doing anything anyone commands of me, save for that of the Supreme Leader, Hux,” he growled. The teasing mood was gone as Ren became defencive, reminding Hux of a cornered predator. 

“Of course not,” Hux simpered, patronising, mocking. 

Ren stood, the end of his short patience reached. 

“Will there be anything else, _General_?” he spat as he drew himself up to his full height. Hux waved dismissively, already feeling the painkillers kick in, and not wanting Ren to be around with his inhibition lowered. 

“I require nothing else, Ren. I wake every morning at 5am sharp. I will require assistance preparing for the day,” he said, his tone formal. 

Ren's mouth thinned into a line.

“As you wish,” he said stiffly before sweeping from the room. 

Hux allowed himself to sink into the pillows with a shuddering sigh as Ren left. He wasn't sure if holding the Knight to him in servitude through blackmail like this was a good idea, but truth be told, he didn't want his men seeing him weak and in need of assistance as he did now. He also greatly enjoyed having Ren obey his orders for once. Almost too much, truth be told. 

“Just for a little while,” he murmured, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. “Just a little while.” 

He carefully rolled onto his side and nestled into his pillows, falling asleep quicker than he had in months. 

———

Ren paced his room, conflicted. He hated Hux. Hated him. Wanted him gone, wanted him dead in certain cases. But now, he was bound to him because admittedly, Ren had made a grave mistake that could have gone so much worse. 

_If he'd died, the consequences would be dire,_ he told himself. _Just coddle him like the child he is for a month, and then he'll be out of your hair, and you can go back to ignoring him._

_“You are not an unattractive man, Kylo Ren.”_

The General's words kept replaying themselves in Ren's mind. Hux found him attractive- and wanted to control him, enjoyed doing so. 

_It would be so easy, and so nice,_ a voice said deep in his mind _, to just let go, and let someone else calm the storm, wouldn’t it?_

He shook his head as a flush spread over his cheeks. 

“No,” he said aloud. “I don't want that stuffed coat to control me. I am my own person.”

But he remembered looking up at Hux from the floor, Hux putting his boot to his chest, the hissed words that rolled and curled in that Outer Rim accent, his hair slightly askew in his anger, in the moment of pure dominant aggression. And he liked it. 

“No. NO.”

He stormed into the refresher- he needed to clear his head. He hated Hux for many reasons, but lately, he hated him for the sheer number of showers he was having to take because of him. 


	8. Kiss and Make Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The oblivious assholes become less oblivious and finally make out- and then Kylo opens his mouth and ruins it.

“Would you hold still?”

“This isn't easy, you know. You try doing this with a broken leg.”

“I've got your waist, just relax and let me get it in, would you?”

“You said that five minutes ago and I fell over. If you would just swallow your pride and do this while I am on the bed instead of standing near the wall, we wouldn't be having this issue.”

“....There. Got it.”

“Good. Finally.”

“....how does it fit?”

“.....better than I thought it would. Can we move on? Help me onto the bed for this, I am not falling over again.”

“Tyrant.”

“Shut up.”

“....you can't just sit there like a statue, Hux. You have to work with me.”

“Not with a broken leg. Push harder, Ren.” 

“I am. Lean into it?”

“....easy on the leg, Ren.”

“That is a ridiculously tight fit. How can you stand it?”

“I personally enjoy it.”

“Of course you do.” 

Phasma stood outside the door, hand frozen in its trajectory to knock on the door. Her chrome helmet was cocked, and confusion was written clearly all over the Captain's form. She considered a few more moments, then decided better of it, and turned back, heading for the bridge. Whatever was going on in the General's quarters between himself and Ren was none of her business, and she did not want to interrupt. 

That didn’t stop the smirk from curling over her lips underneath her helmet. Sexual or not, the tension between her General and the Knight was a source of amusement for her and her troopers, and this tidbit was going to give her leverage in the betting pool they had going. 

Inside, Ren straightened up, eyeing the job he'd done of dressing Hux in the more difficult pieces- his pants, newly tailored to fit over his cast, and boot for his uninjured leg. Hux smoothed the front of his tunic and straightened his belt before gesturing to his greatcoat and the crutches leaning against the wall. 

“I can't very well have you carry me to the bridge, so I might as well start that way now.”

Though Hux couldn't see Ren's face behind his mask, he could _feel_ the withering glare coming from the taller man as he began to struggle using his crutches and keeping his coat on his shoulders at the same time. The heavy coat fell to the ground, and Hux made a frustrated growl. 

“Is the coat _really_ necessary?” Ren asked. Hux scowled at him.

“It is part of my uniform, and it's bloody cold on the bridge. If you would, get that before it wrinkles.”

Ren let out another sigh and scooped the coat up, then paused. It was far heavier than it looked, with a silken inner lining and thick fabric making up the body. A little over the top for a coat, as far as Ren was concerned, but he would agree with Hux on one thing- the bridge was cold. He was able to ignore it, with a ridiculously high metabolism that had him running hot at all times, but he'd seen how the bridge officers wore coats with their uniforms, those without shivering mildly at their stations. 

“Try changing the climate controls, then,” he gritted, watching as Hux made his way to the door. 

“Cold keeps the officers alert and awake, and saves energy, as well as discourages the spread of micro-organisms,” the General replied as he made his way out of the room and into the corridor. Ren followed, Hux's coat draped over his arm. He couldn't argue with Hux's method. 

The going was slow- Hux was trying his best to keep the weight off his leg, but also still keep his dignity in his posture and stride. Casting a glance along the corridor, and walking ahead to the lifts to ensure no one was in them, Ren turned back towards the limping General. Hux gave him a look as Ren approached, holding out his coat. 

“What? I can't carry it and use the crutches at the same time, Ren,” Hux said in exasperation. Ren sighed, the sound a whisper of wind through metal behind his mask, and slid an arm around Hux's waist. Naturally, Hux had many protesting reservations.

“No, don't you even _dare-”_ he was cut off, dropping the crutches as Ren picked him up as easily as he would a small child.

“Just... be quiet and put up with the indignity until we get to the bridge,” Ren growled. “You don't like to be late, I am trying to prevent that.”

Using the Force, Ren lifted the crutches off the floor and just in front of Hux's reach. Unnerved, but still annoyed, Hux laid his coat over his legs and reached out apprehensively, taking the floating crutches and angling them over himself so as not to create any issues for Ren to enter the lifts. 

“You can practice walking with them later, I have things to do today,” Ren grunted, moving to the console to let Hux hit the buttons for the bridge. “Surely Phasma won't mind helping you out today.”

Hux lifted a brow, tilting his head to look up at the masked Knight. 

“Like what? Destroying another room?” He drawled. Ren dug gloved fingers painfully into Hux's thigh, causing him to hiss ever so slightly, and the General, feeling childish but unable to stop himself, punched Ren in the chest. He was unnerved again to find it was mostly unyielding. 

“Leader Snoke has training for me,” Ren said, breaking the silence. “I will return when it is done.” 

Hux had nothing to say to that, and he turned his mind to the day's schedule while trying to ignore how warm Ren was, how his arms under his upper back and thighs were like titanium bars. 

“Ah.”

A low hum was Ren's only reply, and silence filled the lift again. 

“You may want to tell Phasma we weren't having sex.”

“ _ **What?**_ ” Hux sputtered, twisting in Ren's arms in shock. Ren steadied him, and tried to ignore how the General’s ass had been in one of his large hands for a moment before he had hold of his thigh once more. He also tried to ignore how _nice_ his ass had felt.

“She was outside the door when I was helping you dress. I think our dialogue gave her the wrong idea. You may want to inform her that her assumptions are incorrect.”

Hux dragged a gloved hand down his face with a groan. 

“You seem to have been put in my life to make it miserable, Kylo Ren.”

There was a small sound that Hux could only assume with the exhale of breath as Ren grinned and chuckled softly under the horrifying mask. 

“Perhaps.” 

Hux refused to speak to him after that, and when Ren set him down- surprisingly gentle- and helped him out of the lift so he could make his way into the bridge on his own, the General still refused to look at the Knight. Ren turned and left without a word, his cloak trailing after him like a thunderhead as for the first time, he took the Commander's chair instead of standing at his station. 

The feeling of laziness, of stagnation and indolence was maddening. His officers didn't seem to resent him for taking the seat and having to come to him with reports- they'd expected him to be off the bridge for a week, not three days after the break itself- but he still felt cagey, and his anger towards Ren only intensified. 

———

It was a full fortnight before Ren returned to the _Finalizer_. Phasma helped him when she could, but he ended up having an Emdee assist him with mobility when the Captain was preoccupied. Despite trying to convince her that he and Ren had not been engaged in sexual activities, Phasma still found it ridiculously hilarious to tease him about it. Which, oddly enough, Hux didn't mind. He didn't like people assuming he was involved with the thorn in his side, but he didn't mind the companionable teasing between Phasma and himself. 

However, he found himself wondering why Ren was gone for so long, what his 'training' actually entailed. Was it just philosophy? Was it sword training? Or was it Force manipulation? As much as it unnerved him, he still found himself curious- as he was wont to be about things he didn't understand. Hux was a man who was ever hungry for knowledge- information was valuable and empowering. Ignorance was often the death of lesser men. 

When Ren returned, he reported to Hux's room, coming in without asking, or announcing himself. Hux jerked, nearly falling off the bed, his datapad clattering to the floor as he fought to pull his blankets over himself. He'd been lounging in his bed in his briefs, exhausted after the ordeal of bathing and preparing his uniform for the next day without assistance- and he had not wanted Ren seeing him in that state of undress. 

“I'm fairly sure unless you are an expert at hiding it, you don't have any parts that I haven't seen,” Kylo said dryly, sitting on the end of Hux's bed. 

“Still very rude and presumptuous of you, simply barging in and thinking I want your company,” Hux retorted to keep his very contrary thoughts to himself.

Ren made no reply, taking off his mask. Hux blinked. Ren's eyes were dark from pupils dilated with pain, dark bags under his eyes and his jaw was tense. His hair was lank, and his cheeks seemed hollow. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in a week or more. 

“You look like death warmed over,” Hux said before he could stop himself. Ren made a small sound of agreement. 

“I feel like shit.”

“Then why are you here? Go... eat. Sleep,” Hux said awkwardly, realising that very well could be sweat …or oil making Ren's hair look stringy and lank. He wrinkled his nose slightly. When was the last time the man had bathed?

“...Bathe.”

“I can't. Head full of... noise. Needed company to distract me. Figured you might need my assistance, so I thought I'd take care of my problem while I help you with yours,” Ren said, his words slightly disjointed, his voice distant. 

“I'm already tucked in for the night, obviously,” Hux replied, letting the blankets drop to his waist as he scooted back into his pillows. 

He frowned to the side of the bed and at the floor where his datapad had fallen. Ren got to his feet silently, setting his mask on Hux's desk and moving to retrieve the datapad. He handed it to the redhead, then sat back down on the bed- closer this time. Hux was resting in the middle of his bed, and Ren was now perching on the side, close to Hux's knees. 

“...why didn't you use...the Force?” Hux asked, putting the datapad to his side. As much as he wanted Ren to leave, his curiosity won over his discomfort. Ren grunted and rubbed fingertips over the side of his forehead.

“Too tired. Migraine. Too much effort with too much pain as a result,” he replied. 

“Does it always hurt?” Hux asked, tilting his head. His dislike for the man was temporarily fading in the face of his curiosity of the unknown. Ren made a negative sound. 

“Can... May I lie down? The room is spinning,” he said quietly. 

Hux blinked a few times, then pushed himself to one side of the bed, angling his feet away from Ren. Though Hux believed in proficiency and prided himself on his professionalism, he would not deny himself creature comforts like a truly comfortable bed- and his bed was very non-regulation, large with a ridiculously comfortable mattress, multiple thick blankets and _many_ pillows. Scooting over to give Ren enough room was a trivial task, even though it was odd, to say the least, watching Ren stretch out on one side of the bed. 

Giving up on finishing his reading, Hux reached over to a console just beside his bed and lowered the lights to thirty percent. If Ren's migraine was as bad as his own could get, he figured the low lights would help. He was still unsure why he was letting the Knight stay, instead of telling him to leave and take care of himself, or why he was practically caring for him as best as his own condition would allow. 

“Thank you,” Ren said quietly, his eyes closed, hands folded over his stomach. Hux noticed his feet were hanging off the edge of the bed. Respect for the expensive blankets? 

“Yes.”

“I didn't realise I was thinking so directly,” Hux said, his voice quiet as he pushed a pillow under his foot to prop up his broken leg, which had begun throbbing. “...Thank you.”

“You have odd moments where you think directly- and loudly,” Ren mumbled. “Sometimes your mind never shuts up.”

“If it bothers you, why are you here when your head hurts you so?” Hux shot back.

“I needed the distraction. Noise in my head. Chaos. Your thoughts are orderly. They help align my own thoughts, help me think straight. That is, when you actually have them open, and not locked away,” Ren said simply, pulling his gloves off and refolding his hands over his stomach. Hux couldn't help but notice how pale his long slender fingers were against the black robes. 

“There are cloths in the refresher,” he found himself saying. “Wet one with some cold water, maybe grab some ice from my cooler, wrap it in the cloth and put it on your forehead. It helps.” 

Hux watched as Ren considered, then got up, unfolding long limbs and moving out of sight. As the sound of water running came from the other room, Hux almost found himself offering some of his painkillers to the other man, but stopped short, unsure if giving him narcotics was a good idea. 

“It isn't. I lose control,” Ren answered his unspoken thought, returning with a damp cloth and some shaved ice that he folded into the cloth, making a cold compress.

“How is that different from when you attack my ship?” Hux said dryly, but there was no real venom in his voice. He was becoming tired, his medication starting to kick in, and he had no real desire to fight with Ren. 

“...The difference is that I need an outlet for my anger, and a console is better than your crew,” Ren said softly as he sat down on the bed again. “I don't want to hurt allies unnecessarily. You think me capricious, but I'm not.”

Hux saw Ren was removing his boots, and his heart rate picked up a bit, wondering how long Ren intended to stay. 

“Just until the pain fades,” Ren murmured, taking off his cloak and sprawling back on the bed. 

“That's really annoying, you know.”

“Then say it out loud instead of all but shouting it in your head, or figure out how you lock your thoughts and keep them that way,” Ren shot back, laying the cloth over his eyes and forehead and refolding his hands. 

Hux sighed and gave up trying to sit up and have a semblance of control. He was tired, and his leg hurt. He pulled a few pillows to the side and laid back, pulling the blankets over his shoulder. Ren grunted quietly. 

“You're a regular brat with this bed, you know that? One would never guess a General as hard as you slept in a bed so soft.”

“I allow myself few luxuries,” Hux mumbled into the near darkness, muffled by the blankets. “One of them being a nice bed.”

“It is a nice bed,” Ren agreed. “Much more comfortable than my own. I can see why you spend so much time in your quarters.”

“You could easily get a nice bed of your own, just requisition one.” Hux retorted. “How long do your migraines usually last?”

He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be awake, but the thought of falling asleep with Kylo Ren in bed next to him made him feel various mixed feelings he couldn't quite describe. Uncomfortable was the main one. Ren shrugged, then winced, letting out a small hiss as the motion jarred his head. 

“Depends,” he said, his voice dropping to an even quieter volume. “Most of the time they last a day or two.”

Hux grunted and rolled onto his side, peering at the prone Knight. 

“Is that from Force training?”

Ren didn't answer for a while, his jaw clenching as another wave of pain rushed through his head. 

“You could say that. Can we talk about something else?”

“Like what? Shall I tell you the progress of the weapon?”

“I already know,” Ren said, but his voice was soft, gentle. “I meant about something not about... the Order, about our work.”

Hux, who had closed his eyes, now cracked one open at Ren. 

“Like what?” He repeated. 

Ren considered. 

“What are you reading?”

Hux glanced at the datapad. 

“Files. Old records and tactics of an Imperial mastermind- Grand Admiral Thrawn, if you must know.”

Ren grunted.

“You never stop working, do you?”

“Not really, no. Save for when I'm sleeping.” 

“Die-hard. Learn to relax once in a while, maybe you won't look so angry all the time,” Ren drawled. 

“Once we've snuffed the life out of the Resistance and the Republic, I will allow myself some leisure time that is more than an hour,” Hux said matter-of-factly. 

Ren rolled onto his side, which brought himself closer to Hux. 

“So you and Phasma are close. Was she jealous of that morning she made assumptions about the two of us?”

Hux laughed dryly. 

“Phasma has made it known to me she prefers the company of women, and I suspect she is courting a TIE Pilot in any case.”

“Oh? And what about you, General? Do you prefer the company of women?” Ren asked. 

“I fail to see how that is pertinent or any of your business,” Hux said, lifting a brow.

A grin spread over Ren's face, slow, wolfish, almost a leer, but Hux could see one side of his mouth wasn’t _quite_ cooperating with the rest of his face. Ah. One of those migraines, then. 

“Right. You do have fantasies about men.” 

There was slight slur in Ren’s speech, and Hux would have offered more advice to help, as he was pretty sure at this point the migraine was hemiplegic, but Ren’s comment had him turning red to the roots of his hair.

“Stop bringing that up, Ren.”

Ren scooted closer, and Hux could see his pupils were still dilated, a vein at his temple throbbing visibly, the skin around his eyes tight and drawn. He was in obvious pain, but still delighted in bringing up the damned fantasy Hux had had about him. 

“What if I said I wasn't entirely adverse?” He murmured, almost coy. Hux groaned.

“You're delirious with pain, Ren. Go to your room and go to sleep.”

Gritting his teeth, Ren waved a hand, and the lights went out, the room only lit by the dim red lights that lined the bottom of the bulkhead to facilitate better adjustment of sight in the event of battle stations during a sleep cycle. Hux froze as the Knight slid close, reaching over, pulling down the blankets and skimming long fingers down his bare chest. 

“In pain, yes. But not delirious. The migraine is making me have little patience to keep dancing around this bullshit posturing,” he murmured, hands moving to Hux's face. 

Hux was about to protest, but was interrupted as Ren pressed his plush lips against Hux's mouth hungrily, fingers sliding into his hair and tugging. Hux was utterly still, unable to react as Ren kissed him, nibbling at his lower lip, pressing the length of his body against Hux's barely-clothed form. 

_This is inappropriate and will end up nowhere good, Ren,_ he thought desperately, his heart pounding frantically in his chest. 

_I'm not asking you to marry me, Hux. Just kiss me. I know you want me... and I want you, too. Just... Just kiss me._

Hux hesitated a moment longer, then slid arms around Ren's neck, and threw himself into the kiss. Ren gently touched his lower lip with the tip of his tongue, careful, questioning. Hux responded by opening his mouth and letting him in. Ren sighed through his nose, sliding his tongue over Hux's, over his teeth, tasting, drinking him in. Hux had mixed reactions to his taste- Ren’s mouth tasted of salt and copper, and was hot from his reaction to both the kiss and his migraine.

_How far will this go?_

_As far as you want it... I just wanted to kiss that smirk off your face._

Hux broke away, gasping for breath- Ren's kisses were clumsy, unrefined, but very passionate, intense. So much like the way the man handled himself, so much like his odd lightsaber. If there was a way to describe Kylo Ren, it was just that- unrefined, rough, but intense as a supernova. 

Ren made a soft sound of pleased agreement, liking the appraisal running through Hux's mind, and he nuzzled into Hux's neck, teeth nipping, lips suckling, tongue laving at his clavicle. Hux moaned out loud despite himself. Ren skimmed his hand down Hux's stomach, fingers teasing at the waist of his briefs, and Hux froze, panic killing his arousal as effectively as a cold shower.

“No,” he said, his voice shaking. “I can't.” 

Ren lifted his head, confusion written on his face. 

_You don't want me?_ The tone of his voice was quiet, almost wounded.

_I do... but.... I'm not ready. I have a broken leg. You have a migraine... and there are things I need to clear up between us when we are both in our right minds... I can't do this now._

He almost expected anger, for Ren to leave, to storm out, or worse, to tear up his room in a fit of rage. He was surprised when Ren moved his hands back above Hux's waist, and he went back to kissing his clavicle. 

_Then I will wait. Kiss me again?_

Hux obliged him, and the next half hour was quiet, save for the soft sighs, sharp intakes of breath, and the occasional awkward laugh as the two of them left bruises, bites and vivid suck marks on each other’s skin- and when they bumped heads in the dark. 

“You knew to turn the lights down, to offer me a cold cloth. You get migraines, too, don't you?” Ren asked when he could no longer smother Hux in kisses, his migraine roaring to a new level of pain. Hux made an affirmative grunt, looking over at Ren, who had replaced the damp cloth over his eyes.

“Often. You saw I was having one when you asked for a private training room. Sometimes you are the cause of them, Ren.”

Ren snorted softly.

“Don't exaggerate, Hux.”

“I'm not. You have caused me at least four migraines since you first came to this ship, and it’s not just your shenanigans, but I think it was you working your way into my mind,” Hux said honestly, shifting his position a bit to accommodate his leg- and ignore the throbbing between his legs.

If things had been different, if both of them had been of sound body and mind, Hux would have climbed on top of him and ridden him into a blissful unconscious, orgasm riddled oblivion. He was equal parts relieved and frustrated that Ren’s armour effectively covered up his groin, blocking any visual evidence of Ren’s arousal- and possibly any hints of what Ren was packing. 

Hux refused to let his mind consider the thought any further. 

“Ah. I’m… sorry. Your mind was very hard to connect with, and I didn’t expect to have to put so much effort into it. I might have overdone it,” Ren said, almost sheepishly. “How often do you have them?”

“Three times a week at the worst when I was younger... I get them from my biological mother’s genetics, and… my adoptive mother got them, too. There are injections I take to help with them,” Hux replied, blurting out the personal detail without thinking. Perhaps it was how vulnerable Ren looked, or how for the first time, he didn't feel uneasy around the man. Ren turned his head, peeling the cloth back a bit to crack open a bloodshot eye at Hux. 

“Your mother,” he demurred. Hux nodded, and a jaw popping yawn escaped him. 

“Rae Sloane. She gets them all the time. More than I do, but not nearly as bad. She taught me how to cope with them before I was old enough to start the injections. From what I know of my biological mother, she gets the ones that actually shut down half her body.”

Ren grunted.

“Those are the worst. I get them on bad days of training.”

“I get those, but rarely. I mostly get the ones that cause pain and light sensitivity. I’m lucky I have parents that helped me learn to cope with them. I’m grateful to my mothers for it.”

Ren was quiet a long moment, a single brown eye focused on him from under the damp cloth. There was wistful jealousy in that gaze, but when he spoke next, his tone was bitter, scathing.

“Parents. They only exist to bring you into the world and drag you down because you're a reminder of their own mortality. They don't want you to grow, to succeed, because that would mean their time is drawing to a close.”

Hux frowned and considered his thoughts carefully. From all accounts, Leia Organa had been reputed to have loved her son more than life itself, and there were plenty of holos of her with the young Ben Solo at her side, in her arms, in her lap even in the Senate. It had looked like she had adored her son. He didn’t dare mention her, though. 

“Hardly,” he replied, his voice firm. “Parents set expectations, have high hopes, and help their children achieve those goals- doing so not only helps their children, but themselves, and the family. Otherwise, there is no point in having a family, for how else does one establish and maintain a legacy?”

“Legacies,” Ren snorted, but his voice tensed, the volume lowering as another wave of pain stabbed between his eyes. “A fancy word for choking traditions outdated and tired, predetermined paths that don't always have room to accommodate you. The Empire was all about legacies and it got them nowhere.”

“The Empire fell because of the Skywalkers. Something I was under the impression you were trying to stop,” Hux pointed out, carefully testing the waters, his voice hinting at the knowledge he’d gained. “Were it not for Luke Skywalker influencing Vader, the Emperor would have never fallen. We never would have to deal with the New Republic.”

Ren's entire body twitched as though he'd been jolted, and Hux wondered where in his words the raw nerve had been touched. He decided not to push further, however. 

“And your Empire-loyal family didn't just set a legacy for you to follow blindly into, regardless of your own feelings?” 

Hux propped himself up on an elbow, ignoring the protesting twinge in his leg as he considered the vitriol, the anger in Ren's voice. 

“No. My mother supported me in everything. I wanted this life for myself. I put myself into the Academy, into my father's footsteps, even if he himself hated me and thought me destined for failure. My mother only encouraged me, tried to spare me from the abuses of my father. He thought me weak, a waste of space, but I knew from a young age that I was destined for greatness, and I would let nothing stop me.”

“Not even him, it seems,” Ren said softly, his voice curious, almost searching. 

Hux went cold. 

“Get out.”

Ren sat up, frowning.

“I-”

“Get. Out.”

It was the only time Hux had ever seen Ren flinch from something he'd done or said. Hux pointed to the door, suddenly hating the taste of Ren in his mouth, hating the blooming bruises on his neck, shoulders and clavicle. 

“Get the hell out, Kylo Ren.”

Ren quickly slid his mask on, gathered his things, and left the room without even putting his boots back on. Hux clenched his fists in the sheets, his mind racing, eyes focusing on nothing as he tried to decipher the meaning in Ren’s statement. 

Did he know? Had he probed into the med-droids’ records while he was out cold? Had he sifted the information from Phasma? Or worse… had Hux himself unwittingly thought about it in front of Ren? No. Surely not. He couldn’t have. Hux hadn’t thought about the late Commandant in years, and Brendol’s death had been an afterthought to Phasma, and she likely hadn’t thought of it less than two DAYS after his death, let alone years. No. That wasn’t likely. Then the question wasn’t only whether Ren knew or not, it was also what he knew, and how. 

He chewed on his bottom lip.

Or had he gotten to Captain Cardinal? The man had disappeared after his fight with Phasma, and all evidence pointed to him dying in the hangar bay, and being disposed of by the cleaning droids before his death could be confirmed. Had Ren encountered him, and found out what the man had known? 

Another thought froze the blood in his veins.

The droid that had attended to his father up until his death- it had been scrapped, Hux had commanded it. Had its memory bank not been wiped? Had Ren found it and extracted the records of Brendol’s death? 

He needed to talk to Phasma. Privately. Soon. A glance at his crono told him Phasma would be asleep, but he promised that first thing after waking, he’d talk with his second. He had to make sure nothing was amiss. 

He rolled over and tried to sleep, but the warm comfort of unconsciousness wouldn’t come as his mind continued to wrack his brain for answers. It wasn’t until two hours later, when he finally made a grab for the bottle of brandy in his nightstand, and taking a shot straight from the bottle, did he succumb, the alcohol intensifying the effects of his pain killers. 

——

Outside the General's room, Ren sat outside in a heap, long limbs splayed as he leaned against the bulkhead, the cold metal a relief against the pain of his migraine. His right side had gone numb, and his leg had been slow to react. He couldn’t make his way to his room- not yet- until he had the storm of pain in his head calmed. 

Hux’s mind had locked to him, mysteriously and maddening as always, but Ren could still feel the precise, orderly flow of his thoughts, even if he couldn’t grasp what they were. He clung to that exact line of thought, holding onto the calm like a lifeline, and used it to ride out the maelstrom of his own chaotic mind. Once Hux had fallen asleep, the train of thought slowing and coming to a stop, Ren had recovered enough to haul himself to his feet, and enough ambulation to drag himself to his room. 

All the while, he wondered what he’d said to upset Hux so badly. It was no secret that the late General had disliked- even despised- his only son, and records he’d sliced from Sloane’s own files had indicated that she’d become his surrogate mother to protect him from the abuses of the cruel elder Hux. That was what Ren had meant- Hux not letting the abuse and loathing from his own father preventing him from rising in the ranks. 

But, he mused, as he opened the door to his chambers, there may be more to it than that. Perhaps it had to do with the Commandant’s death.

He pondered it a bit as he disrobed, then decided, upon looking at his bed in the darkest corner of the room, with its bare essentials and lack of comfort, he didn’t care. Not then. He flumped onto his bed and finally gave in to the remnants of his migraine, sliding into the darkness of sleep. 


	9. Political Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo goes with Hux to a political summit- at Snoke's insistence- and nearly causes a diplomatic Incident, while learning Chiss are NOT to be fucked with.

_Are you still angry?_

The words caused a rage to spark in Hux’s head, and he whirled around to face the man he could not stand- physically, mentally, emotionally- in any form. The fact that Ren was daring to speak to him, that he hadn’t moved to the back of the ship to give him some space, that he was pushing into his mind to talk to him, only further fuelled Hux’s rage. 

_I am not angry, I am **livid.** I am **furious.**_

There were numerous reasons Hux was furious with Ren, and the latest incident was the most prominent in his mind, but it was one of many things. Hux was also still furious about the comment he’d made in his room those odd weeks- almost months- ago, and he was still mildly worried that the man knew he’d conspired with Phasma to kill his father. He wasn’t sure why he cared if Ren knew or not, but it felt like something he needed to keep under wraps. He had the feeling Snoke already knew, but didn’t care- the Commandant had already worn out his place and was no longer useful once his son had ascended to the rank of General. 

Hux still believed it in his best interest to keep it to himself, regardless. He didn’t trust Ren. Wasn’t even sure at this point if he really _liked_ Ren. There was some sexual tension between them, and Ren was attractive, he had to admit, with very pretty hair- stupidly pretty hair- and despite his clear lack of experience, he was a passable kisser. Yet, Hux wouldn’t have broken his leg were it not for his childish impetuousness. 

There was also the matter of his foul temper, his unpredictable tantrums, his reckless destruction of First Order property, the harassment of his officers…. And recently, there was the literal shouting match he’d had with the Captain of Alpha Squadron when she’d been training with Phasma- over what, he didn’t know, Phasma wouldn’t divulge, and Hux didn’t press. The fact that he’d instigated a fight with one of his best still rankled him, though. Then there was the tantrum on the bridge where he’d tossed poor Lieutenant Mitaka down into an data pit, who’d landed on top of Ensign Akarr, who’d suffered a concussion- and that was without considering the damage he’d caused to the bridge… and his training room… and his personal bedroom had had to be renovated a third time this month alone…

Hux stopped. If he kept up the thread of thought, he’d never stop- it was all too easy to make an endless list of Ren’s faults when he was angry- and he was still angry from earlier- but that anger was compounded with the fact that Ren had accompanied him to visit Lady Carise and on a diplomatic concern… and had made the entire situation incredibly, horribly…. _Bad._

Lady Carise Sindian, despite being cast down as a Senator after her horrible failure to take down Leia Organa Solo,was still wealthy, and connected amongst Centrists and most outright First Order supporters- she often used her fall from power as a rallying point to other nobles that they, too, would lose everything if the Populists and Resistance poisoned the galaxy with their corruption. Her expulsion from the Elder Houses had not severed those ties entirely when the Centrists began to realise seceding from the New Republic might be the best idea- especially if it meant joining the First Order. 

Carise, though technically no longer a Lady, as she was no longer Governor, let alone a noble, was still called by that title when Hux addressed her- he fully intended to place her back into the ranks of nobility once politics had levelled enough to do so, and when it was within his power to do so. Until then, he still used her title, if only to remind her of what he was going to give back to her, and what he could deny her. Until then, she did what she could to rally support for the Order- especially the wealthy, politically powerful kind, such as Erudo Ro-Kiintor- and Hux visited her twice a year, personally, to go over progress and plans. 

Ren was the last person he would have taken with him to Arkanis, but the Knight insisted. Even though Arkanis was technically Republic territory, it was largely ignored once the Republic had drawn inward to Hosnian Prime, and the planet was a quiet, but busy hub of activity for Centrists and their allies. It was also conveniently located on the edge of the Outer Rim, making it accessible to the Order by skirting past many Republic-held worlds. Despite the fact that Arkanis was mostly safe, and practically First Order territory in all but name, Ren insisted on going to protect Hux- but Hux suspected he’d wanted to go because it wouldn’t just be Carise attending the meeting.

Grand Admiral Rae Sloane and her soon-to-be Match, Aristocra Mitth’ail’inrokini, were also attending. The meeting was to be a very private, covert and classified affair, as the Centrists and the Order had made agreements, but this was going to be the first meeting to set agreements between the Centrists and the Ascendancy. Aristocra Thailin was more than capable of handling herself, especially with Sloane at her side, but she’d have at least two Chiss Secret Police with her- at least one of whom Hux knew might be one of the legendary, and terrifying Snow Children. Hux still didn’t know what Snow Children were, not entirely, but what he did know was that they were genetic anomalies, similar to Skywalkers, and were very dangerous and proficient in hand to hand combat. 

Or, if the rumours were to be believed, it was more hand to _claw_ combat. 

Ren likely wanted to see this for himself, wanted to see Sloane and ask her questions about Hux, or wanted to see a Chiss for the first time. Or, Hux admitted, Snoke probably wanted him to take inventory of how Sloane looked, how her fiancee looked, how powerful her bodyguards were, and to take any notes possible about the Ascendancy that Snoke might take advantage of. Then, there was also the possibility that Ren simply wanted to see Thailin, as she was the niece of Grand Admiral Thrawn, and if she took after her uncle. Hux knew already that she did- in every way that mattered, and in ways that weren’t always apparent. 

Hux was going to ensure Ren stayed out of the room and keep post as a bodyguard, since he’d been so keen on coming for that very reason- he didn’t want Ren bringing Snoke any news of his mother that wasn’t pertinent to the advancement of the Order, or anything that resonated in his own personal life.

He was still getting used to the fact that he was going to have a Chiss Aristocra as a stepmother soon- and that he would- by marriage- be related to Grand Admiral Thrawn. The thought gave him mixed feelings, most of which could only be described as the giddiness of a schoolboy finding out he’s related to his idol. The other feelings were a mix of general oddity, being part of a Chiss family, or having a Chiss part of his family; the others that of happiness for Sloane. His mother deserved nothing better than love and power, and no one less than one of the figureheads of the Eighth Ruling family. 

Hux felt very, very lucky in the fact that he technically had four mothers- a definite upgrade, given he’d grown up with only one.

The meeting had gone smoothly enough- at first. Carise and Ro-Kiintor had been mildly taken aback by Thailin coming through the door, a vision of austere beauty and power dressed in burgundy robes trimmed in white and gold, her glowing red eyes taking in her prospective allies carefully, her alien face unreadable. Sloane, at her side, wore white trimmed in burgundy- not the whites of a Grand Admiral, as she had retired, but the white tunic and pants of the Intended of an Aristocra, and former military at that. The Ascendancy had respected her rank, and still called her Admiral, even though she no longer held the title, and allowed her to wear white- which was, like in the Empire, reserved for high ranked military. 

Rae Sloane and Mitth’ail’inrokini made a striking couple as they came into the room and seated themselves after a round of introductions- and Sloane giving Hux’s shoulder a firm affectionate squeeze, earning a rare smile from him. Thailin, was not as subtle, leaning to the side to plant a kiss on her future step-son’s cheek, leaving a bright red mark from her lip rouge. Ren had actually laughed aloud as Hux barely contained his flush and politely wiped it away with a handkerchief- glaring at Ren as he did so. 

All the while, two Chiss stood silently across the room from Ren, who stood at the door. They were dressed simply, their tight long sleeved tunics and pants a deep black, with similarly coloured black gloves, and knee high boots made of a supple black leather-like material. Their tunics and pants had clear sealing seams down the sides of their torsos and legs, and looked to be almost disposable, rather than tailor made. Likewise, their boots looked more for simple outfitting rather than serving any sort of combat protection- almost as if their entire ensembles were disposable. 

Neither carried weapons, a fact made obvious that neither checked a weapon at the door- a fact that Ren had taken great issue with when asked to set aside his lightsaber. Hux countered that he didn’t need it in a room full of beings who didn’t use the Force, and that by that factor alone, he had an advantage, and would he please just agree to this one social nicety for the sake of the negotiations? 

Ren hadn’t been happy about it, but finally acquiesced, under the condition he stood by the door. Now, from his position, he eyed the two silent Chiss, who stared back at him- as far as he could tell, since it was very hard to tell which direction a Chiss was really looking. 

_I thought they had pupils- didn’t Thrawn have pupils? It’s very distracting, I can’t tell where they’re looking because they don’t have pupils. Chiss are creepy,_ Ren had asked Hux, unable to stop watching, and glad he had his mask on to hide his blatant staring. 

_Not as distracting as you are, Ren. And no, Thrawn wore contacts to give himself a semblance of human irises and pupils to help facilitate better communication with fellow Imperials, and to make him seem less alien,_ Hux had replied. _Now please be quiet, I need to focus._

Hux had shut his mind down, going completely into business and negotiation mode with the Centrists and the Aristocra. 

Negotiations began over refreshments- tea, pastries, the usual fare. Ren and the silent Chiss guardians both refused to partake, electing to watch each other quietly, the human guardians of the Centrist politicians left to look between each other, then back to the imposing figures in black. 

Things had been progressing well, there’d hardly been any real protests to the arrangements, no back-tracking or counter-offers were being made, and everyone seemed pleased with the terms thus far. Hux had suspected as much- the Centrists were getting cocky as the Senate was leaning more and more to their side of the divide as the First Order was slowly creeping into Republic space, claiming shipyards, or having manufacturers splinter in order to get around sanctions of sales to the Order. They were eager to give an investment to the war machine- and wars were usually profitable to those who made the best parts of war machines. 

And then Ren had let his curiosity get the better of him, and had abandoned any sense of tact as the meeting drew to a close. 

“What was the point of bringing unarmed guards?” he asked Thailin. “Or do Chiss use underhanded tactics that don’t require weapons to protect valued individuals?”

Hux could feel Ren pushing curiously at his mind as he asked, and it was very likely an innocent question- but Ren had no tact, and had asked it in possibly the most offensive way he could have asked a Chiss- insinuating the guards were useless, or worse, were dishonourable. 

The reaction was immediate. One of the guards, a tall, svelte man, bared his teeth and hissed- and fangs glittered in his mouth. The other, a Chiss of no discernible gender, curled their lip in an offended snarl, and Hux could hear something tearing. He looked down and saw claws ripping through the guard’s gloves. 

Thailin said something in Cheunh Hux didn’t quite catch- he was rusty, and hadn’t heard the language spoken in years- and both guards pulled back, but their eyes glowed intensely, their sharp teeth still bared. Hux found himself staring despite himself- Chiss were mostly carnivorous, and had prominent canines suited to their diet, similar to Togruta, but these two had _fangs._ Not just sharp canines, but sharp incisors, sharp bicuspids, and ripping molars- teeth of apex predators that _hadn’t been there before._

Ren, with all the social grace of a rancor in an antique shop, had no sense of when to let things be. 

“Hux, get behind me. Now. I don’t trust these things, and I won’t have them devouring you.”

Hux flushed blood red to the roots of his hair in utter embarrassment and immediately shot an apologetic look to Thailin, ready to apologise, to explain Ren was overprotective, overzealous- but he didn’t have the chance. 

The guards exploded in a flurry of gleaming white fur, flashes of claw, bone and fang, and deep guttural snarls as they leapt at Ren. 

“NO!” Hux and Thailin both screamed at the same time, Carise and Ro-Kiintor shrieking and diving out of the way, their guards taking up defencive positions in front of their wards as a fight exploded in the room. 

The Chiss guards were no longer Chiss, their forms now twice Ren’s size, their clothing lying in shredded ruins across the floor- and Hux saw now why their outfits had looked disposable. 

Each of them stood almost eight tall, possibly more, but Hux couldn’t estimate properly, given that they were now brawling with Ren. He could see they were somewhere between bipedal and quadrupedal, with a spine that hunched at the shoulders- which likely gave them ease of moving on two legs or four. Their forelimbs were long, and the flashes of their hands he could see had long fingers with white-pink claws that glittered along razor-sharp edges. Their hind limbs were digitigrade, with thick thighs and long calves, the limbs ending with large paws rather than humanoid feet- each toe ending in claws that matched the ones on their hands. 

One had a long tail with sleek long fur- though it was puffed out in anger- while the other had a tail that was shorter, and was far bushier. Both had thick ruffs of white fur covering their neck and shoulders that extended down their spines- and was raised in a ridge of fury. The rest of their bodies were covered in a similarly white fur that gleamed like bone, and looked very dense, tightly packed.

What made them monstrous, however, was their heads. 

Both no longer had blue skinned humanoid faces with glowing red eyes. Their near-human faces had been replaced with skeletal features- fleshless skulls of a long muzzled predator that had glowing red eyes in the deep sockets, bare jaws snapping and gaping to allow the horrifying growls and snarls to issue forth. Just behind the zygomatic arch of bone that swept from the underside of the eyesocket similar to a hound’s, and where the bare bone met the line of fur, a pair of wide, triangular ears were flattened back in rage, and from the sides of the top of each skull, were a pair of gnarled, branching horns that looked like backward sweeping branches of a dead tree- branches that ended in wickedly sharp points. 

Hux stared, unable to react as the creatures that had once been Chiss launched at Ren and were now snapping, circling, lunging and jumping on top of him. They definitely outweighed Ren by at least half, and they had claws, teeth and horns that looked incredibly dangerous- even deadly. 

Ren wasn’t helpless, though, even without his lightsaber. He held them back with the Force, tossing them back when they attempted to leap atop him. Unlike combat sims Hux had been in, or seen Ren perform, these foes did not come in polite waves- they came when they could, as often as they could, together, or separately, and without hesitation. The one with the shorter tail seized Ren’s forearm in their mouth and clamped down hard enough to pierce Ren’s armoured sleeve, and draw blood. The creaking of armour and jaws told everyone that it was taking extreme pressure to achieve that feat, and if Ren had been a normal human being, his arm would likely be down the creature’s throat by now. Or worse, it would have snapped.

“ _Vitcah hah! Vah vun'cehah to Mitth K'icetei! Vun'csut vah ch'ah!_ ” Thailin ordered in Cheunh, but her guards were past listening. Thailin turned to Hux.

“Armitage, they are proud, but they are Snow Children, and defending my life and honour overrides their judgement. Please tell your companion not to hurt them!” She pleaded in Sy Bisti. 

“Ren, don’t kill them,” Hux commanded. “Try not to hurt them!”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not being dog-piled by rabid monsters!” Ren roared as he wrestled with the Snow Child that was trying to chew through his arm, and trying to keep the second one from having access to his back. 

“You started this by being disrespectful and insulting their honour, Ren,” Hux spat. 

“They’re not monsters, Lord Ren,” Sloane cut in, speaking in Basic so Ren and the other parties could understand. “They are honour guards to the Aristocra and Syndics of the Ruling Families, and you insulted both them, and by proxy, their Aristocra. They are obligated to defend their honour- and hers.”

“If you don’t want me to kill your honour guards, tell me how to incapacitate them, then!” Ren snarled, an impressive sound that made the second Snow Child pause and tilt their head. Ren took advantage of the momentary pause to pull his assailant towards the wall, putting his back to it and cutting off an assault point. 

“The ear,” Thailin said in very passable, but heavily accented Basic. “Grab the ear, pull down and back towards the neck. Twist it back in a small amount as you do this. It will cause a spasm in the large nerve in the neck, I do not know your term for it.”

Ren grabbed the closest ear of the offending Chiss and pulled hard, twisting. Instantly, the Snow Child yelped, their jaws going slack, and they slumped to the floor in a limp heap, fainted dead away. Hearing their companion cry out, the second leapt at Ren with a howl that echoed in their skull- a rather terrifying reverberation. Ren feinted, then wrapped an arm around the creature’s furry neck, grabbing hold of the ear and repeating the pull and twist. Like their companion, the Snow Child whimpered, and fainted in a furry heap. 

Ren panted, his arm dripping blood on the floor. His cloak and the cloth covering his armour were ripped and shredded in various places, and his mask had three long gouges in the metal ringing the eyes, and down the muzzle. Hux was taken aback- he knew Ren’s mask was made partially with doonium, one of the hardest known metals in the galaxy. Yet the claws of the Snow Child had left gouges in the burnished rings of metal around the eyepiece. 

“What are these things?” Ren demanded.

Thailin drew herself up, eyes flashing.

“They are not things, they are Snow Children. Chiss who have a second form. They are few, and rare, but they fight to the death to protect their wards. They work hard to control their aggression and overprotective nature.”

She levelled her gaze at Ren, eyes narrowing coldly. 

“Somewhat like you, only they did better, as they did not insult you for protecting your ward.”

Without waiting for a reply, Thailin knelt beside her unconscious guardians, Sloane following suit. Thailin stroked the ruff of each fallen Snow Child, murmuring softly in Cheunh before pulling a packet of what could only be smelling salts from a pocket. She held it to the open nasal cavity of each one, and slowly, they roused. They pulled themselves up into a lying position, rather than sprawled helplessly on the floor, and flattened their ears, bowing their heads in shame. A low whine escaped the larger one with the longer tail, and the smaller one had tucked their tail close to their haunches. 

Thailin stroked the zygomatic arch of each one, still murmuring in Cheunh. Hux caught a few words he understood- Honour, protection, Duty, Blind. She did not fault them, did not blame them. Gratitude coloured her words, and concern deepened her tone as she stroked the ear Ren had twisted in order to bring them down. Once she had soothed them, and reassured herself that they were well, she stood. Sloane remained sitting, allowing the smaller one to rest their head in her lap so she could stroke their fur reassuringly. 

“I will ignore the slight against my honour guard, Armitage,” Thailin said in Minnisiat, giving him time to parse the language, but he needed less time than with Cheunh- Minnisiat was a language he’d been taught by the Chiss, and it was easier, even physically possible for him to speak. 

“But know this, son of my Intended. Your own pet monster is not allowed in Ascendancy space until he is muzzled, or tamed and trained. Break him in, or leave him at home next time. It is clear his true master is not as politically inclined or sensitive as you are. Next time, he will cause worse damage, I fear. I will not attend another negotiation with him present- I much prefer Captain Phasma, and I am honestly disappointed in your choice of companion- even worried.”

Hux felt a flush of actual emotional pain as she voiced her disappointment- and looked at Sloane to see a look of _agreement_ on his mother’s face, her eyes never leaving his as she continued to soothe the distraught Snow Child. The pain deepened as he saw Sloane was also disappointed in him- and anger rose in his chest at Ren for this insubordination, this insolence, this-

-Sabotage?

“I assure you, Aristocra,” Hux said in Minnisiat, his voice even, but he could not prevent his brow from furrowing slightly. “I had every hope, and every reassurance that he was going to behave, and not insult, or antagonise you or the Ascendancy. I had no intention of any slight towards you. However, in this matter, I had little choice but to bring him- the Supreme Leader insisted, and I could not disobey. I know it was a mistake, and my inability to do otherwise does not excuse the incident from happening. It was…”

He swallowed- and felt a hard knot of pride, anger and bitterness catch in his throat. 

“It was my mistake for not doing more to control him, and for that, Aristocra Mitth’ail’inrokini, I offer my deepest, most humble apologies.”

“So… can we go? Is this over? Or is anything changed after this fiasco?” Ro-Kiintor asked apprehensively. 

Hux turned to the Senator and nodded. 

“All is well, and I apologise for this embarrassing episode. It was a cultural misunderstanding, and I am deeply sorry for any stress this may have caused for you,” he replied. 

Carise shuddered and fanned herself, while Ro-Kiintor actually chuckled. 

“Why General, this just makes me all the more keen on allying with the Chiss- they clearly are formidable opponents to take on a Knight of Ren, and would be even more formidable allies! Do give my regards to your fellow power players, Aristocra, you have won the support of Hevurion, at any rate!”

Thailin smiled, and Sloane murmured a translation to the Snow Children curled around her. The pair visibly relaxed a bit, relieved their nature hadn’t destroyed the progress of negotiations. 

“I may not be Senator anymore, but I assure you, Aristocra, that the others of Arkanis will definitely be happy to support this alliance. Thank you for taking your time to come out to us, and may you have a safe, uneventful journey home,” Carise said, curtsying deep into her skirts before leaning down, careful of the Snow Children’s horns, and planting an affectionate peck on Sloane’s cheek. 

“Good to see you again, Rae. Retirement- and engagement- look stunning on you, just like those whites,” she said cheekily. “Don’t wait so long to visit next time, hm?”

And with that, she swept from the room, her guards departing, leaving just Ren, Hux, Sloane, Thailin, and the two distressed Snow Children. 

“Do you have anything to say, Ren?” Hux said stiffly, pointedly. 

“Thank you for telling me how to incapacitate them. I might have killed them otherwise. Perhaps they need more training so that they don’t show their fangs and claws and make threats of themselves, and cause an incident.”

Hux’s mouth fell open, and a strangled sound escaped his throat as Ren pointedly swept from the room, leaving a trail of blood splatters behind him. He turned to Thailin, his face blood red, brow furrowed in abject humiliation and frustration. 

“Thailin, I’m so sorry, I-”

She held up a hand as she turned her attention back to her companions- clearly, they were more than guards. They were friends, perhaps even family. 

“I stand by what I said, Armitage. Do not bring him again, or we will cancel any negotiations. Snoke can throw around his threats all he wants, but we can- and will- withdraw from our agreement with the First Order. We made those agreements long ago with the Remnant, with my Rae, and with you. Not Snoke. Snoke is a foot note, not the headline.”

“I don’t want the Ascendancy as an enemy,” Hux said softly, drained, save for the rage he was banking to a low simmer- until he was alone with Ren later, and would unleash his fury on the asinine idiot. “I don’t want the Order turning on you… and I may not have the ability to say no to that event, should Snoke decide to it.”

Thailin’s gaze was as cold as the surface of Csilla.

“The Chiss do not simply accept outside demands, or threats without careful consideration. We certainly do not submit to domination. By anyone.”

Hux swallowed- he was looking at Thailin, but at that moment, he was hearing Mitth’raw’nuruodo in her voice. 

“You may be the son of my Intended, but the Order is secondary- less than secondary- to me compared to the Ascendancy, the Mitth Family, House Inrokini. I will not hesitate to rally the other Aristocras to declare war on the First Order with all the might of the Ascendancy, should Snoke threaten us over something as small as his untrained, wild and uncultured apprentice being barred from political meetings where a child doesn’t belong.”

The Snow Child resting their head on her lap gave a small, satisfied, almost smug snort of agreement through their nose.

“I hope I have made myself absolutely clear on this matter,” Thailin said calmly.

Hux nodded weakly.

“Crystal clear, Aristocra,” he replied weakly. 

———

Pulling himself back to the present, Hux turned to Ren, his glare enough to give the Knight pause. 

“You nearly cost me everything in that little blunder, Ren. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t tell Snoke everything, and see if he doesn’t pull you back for a full round of training, reconditioning to behave better so we don’t lose allies and resources, supply chains, territories, recruitment grounds, footholds in Republic Space, intel, our entire alliance with the Ascendancy- _I could go on with how much your little stunt could have cost me, Kylo Ren,”_ Hux snarled. 

Ren stiffened, and took a step towards Hux angrily.

 _Remind me why I shouldn’t just let you die, since you seem to be adverse to me protecting you,_ he growled, his voice low and deadly in Hux’s mind. 

Hux opened his mouth to retort, but didn’t have the chance, as an explosion rocked their shuttle. 

_Hux, move!_

Hux didn’t have the reaction speed that Ren did, and didn’t catch the warning in time. A piece of metal, shot from somewhere in the cockpit, hit him hard on the side of the head. Hux fell to the floor of the shuttle, blacking out as the world turned to a pinpoint of fire, noise and smoke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow Children are a thing my fiancee and I came up with while world building for another fic, and I love them, so I stuck them in there, that's all there is to it /shrugs.
> 
> Thailin is saying "Stop! You do not honour the Mitth family this way!" or to that effect.


	10. Marooned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabotage results in Hux and Kylo having to actually work together. They don't- entirely- to no one's surprise. Hux scares the shit out of Kylo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deviated a bit from the plot of the Marooned comic. Serious content warning for mental/physical abuse of a child and graphic details of torture/disemboweling. This chapter was personal catharsis for me, and if you've read the comic, it is NOT necessary to the overall plot of Loyalty, and CAN be skipped for your own safety if need be.

“Don’t you know how to do _anything_ right?”

The Admiral’s meaty hand caught him across the cheek, and he stumbled, dropping the tray. The glasses fell onto the floor, breaking into glittering shards. The contents spilled onto the floor, soaking his shoes and the hem of his pants. The bald man scowled at him, his doughy face reddening further, then he turned to look at the other man entering the room.

“Considering you found his mother in a kitchen, you’d think this bastard would be better at serving drinks, Brendol,” Admiral Brooks said to the Commandant, whose face darkened, his bushy eyebrows knitting close together over his crooked nose. 

“Pathetic boy, do you know how expensive that wine was?” the Commandant snapped. “A Chandrilan Blue ‘439- and out here in the Unknown Regions, the likelihood of another bottle coming into our possession is next to nothing!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Armitage began, hating the quaver in his voice as he gripped the tray tightly. 

Brooks had pushed the rug so that it had created a fold just inside the door, and presented a tripping hazard for anyone who might come in and not expect it- that person being the ten year old Armitage. An opportunity for him to screw up, and present an opportunity to be humiliated, and if this incident were the same as the rest- and it usually was the case- an opportunity to be beaten. 

Why had Aristocra Thailin been unable to allow him clearance to come negotiate with Sloane? Why couldn’t he at least have been allowed to go with her on her shuttle? He’d have been alone on the Lambda for half a day, maybe a whole day, but that would have been a vacation compared to being trapped on the Eclipse with Commandant Hux and Admiral Brooks. For all her size, the Eclipse was tiny and suffocating when he couldn’t escape the wrath of the man who’d sired him. 

Sloane had threatened to kill him if she found out he’d hurt Armitage again, but that threat couldn’t cover the abuse of his allies, his friends and Armitage’s tormentors. The ones who’d laughed at him, about him during their meetings from the time he was barely six. The ones who called him worthless, pathetic, weak. Sloane couldn’t kill them all, and they both knew it would do neither of them any favours if she did. 

“I’ve yet to find anything you’re good at, anything you’re not utterly useless at, Armitage,” Brendol said, his face a mask of disapproval and disgust. 

Despite the fact that this man was no longer _legally_ his father, that he abused him, hated him, belittled him and thought _next to nothing_ of him, Armitage couldn’t help wanting to at least defuse the situation, to try to placate Brendol’s anger.

“I’ll clean it,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll wipe it up and-”

“Make him lick it up- shame to waste Chandrilan Blue ‘439,” Brooks leered from his place on the lounger, where he’d stretched out, arms folded behind his head. 

Armitage blanched, then flushed, and glanced up at Brendol, eyes wide. Surely-

Brendol Hux only stared back at him with no expression on his face whatsoever. It was the cold mask Armitage himself was learning to cultivate as a defence. He stood silently, hands folded behind his back as he stared at Armitage. Hating himself, Armitage felt his hands shake, and he clamped tighter on the tray, knuckles going white. An awful feeling was crawling in his throat, bubbling up-

The cursed word was out of his mouth before he could stop it, before he could bite it back, before he could clamp down on his traitorous tongue. 

“Father?” It was imploring, nervous, almost _pleading._

The look- or lack of any forthcoming- on Brendol’s face said everything. 

“Do you hear him countering my order, you weak pup?” Brooks barked from his seat, sitting forward to scowl at the ten year old boy. 

“You dropped it, you won’t waste it. Get on your knees and lick it up _,_ _boy_.”

Armitage felt his knees give, and he fell on them, glass crunching under the grey fabric of the sweatpants he wore. The broken glass cut into his knees, sharp, stinging, and the spilt alcohol seeping through the cloth and into the wounds burned like fire. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he bent low, biting back a sob before it could be heard. Brooks let out a bray of laughter.

“Weak, snivelling little bastard!” Brendol ground out, seeming to come to his senses and realised that if Armitage came back to Sloane reeking of alcohol with cuts on his knees and face, he’d be flayed within an inch of his life. It hadn’t stopped him from letting Armitage go to his knees in the glass and spilt wine, shaking with humiliation and emotional pain. 

Brendol grabbed Armitage by the wrist and hauled him up before he could put his face to the glass and wine on the floor. Armitage was unable to stop the agonised expression on his face as his shoulder was wrenched horribly, and glass dug into his palm and knees. Brendol saw the tears falling down his face, and he slapped the boy across the cheek with a gloved hand. 

Balance knocked off centre, and being held painfully by the wrist, Armitage struggled to stand, and collapsed again into the glass and wine. Another yank on his wrist jerked him to his feet with a jolt of pain that shot down the entire left side of his body.

“You weak little cur! Waste of space, pathetic, weak little bastard, you whiny, snivelling runt, I’ll _give you something **valid** to cry about. _Get up, Armitage!” Brendol roared at him. 

——

“Get up!”

_Hux, get up!_

Hux sat up and felt heat on both sides of his face- liquid heat on the right from a cut on his forehead, where blood flowed freely down his cheek; heat from a fire that was burning in the console on his left. In between them, shielding him from the majority of the fire as the pilot was furiously working on the functioning consoles, was Ren. 

“What? What’s happening?” Hux asked, confused. He’d just been on the Eclipse, with glass and wine on his knees, Brendol’s enormous paw grasping his wrist as Admiral Brook’s laughter brayed in his ears. 

Ren was kneeling beside him, one hand held out to steady him, the other pressing the back of his shoulder as he helped Hux sit up. 

“Our hyperdrive just shut down, we were pulled out of hyperspace, and our engine is failing, sir! I’m doing what I can, but I’m afraid we’re dead in the air and we’re going down fast!” The pilot cried, turning to him to address his question before going back to the console, trying everything she could to get the shuttle stable, if not flying. 

_Are you badly hurt? You’re bleeding pretty profusely, Hux,_ Ren prodded. 

Hux ignored him, fully aware, awake and angry. He noticed the burning he’d felt in his nightmare had been a spark that had caught on his greatcoat, and was now smoldering. He ripped off the coat, tossing it aside as he got to his feet. Ren rocked back on his heels a little, and Hux felt a wave of relief- then annoyance- from him. He ignored it- there would be time for their posturing later. Right now, he had to try to salvage the situation, even as the shuttle shuddered around them, growing hotter by the instant as it made a perilously fast descent to the surface. 

“Contact First Order Command, give them our location and order a rescue team!” He ordered. 

“Systems are all out, General!” The pilot replied, the panic evident on her face. “I’m trying to stabilise her, but-”

She never finished what she was trying to say- or Hux didn’t hear her- as the three of them were thrown off their feet by the impact of the shuttle crashing to the ground in an explosion of heat, debris and fire. 

Hux had expected to die, or at least be incapacitated. He was shocked to find himself able to sit up from where he was sprawled on the ground, and saw Ren standing beside him, his arm outstretched, fingers splayed. All around them both, the debris from the ship, the ground, and everything else affected by their crash was suspended in the air. Ren’s posture was completely casual, as if holding back the disaster of their crash and saving both their lives was an afterthought. 

Hux looked up at the floating debris, mildly amazed, then turned at looked at Ren. 

“You saved my life.”

Ren snorted. 

“Not intentionally,” he grumbled. “I saved myself. You were just close enough to be lucky.”

He let the debris drop as he headed back to the wreckage of the shuttle. A few pieces bounced off Hux’s head, and he winced- he’d suspected he might have a concussion after the initial explosion. The ringing in his head, the sudden swaying of the world around and under him after the metal hit his head only confirmed it. 

“Communications are out,” Ren said, stating the obvious as he prodded at what little wreckage seemed even remotely salvageable. Hux returned Ren’s snort. 

“We knew that. Which means I have no choice but to talk to you instead of _anyone_ else,” he groused, looking around. 

“Like I enjoy talking to you any more than you do,” Ren grunted. Hux snorted again. 

“You like coming around me enough when you’re having one of your migraines- and you certainly like making yourself a fixture in my quarters after I’ve tucked in to sleep,” he shot back. 

“Hardly. It’s only a convenience- your boring mind is enough to put me to sleep.”

“Says the man who kissed me first,” Hux said before he could stop himself. Damnit, what had he brought _that_ up for? 

Ren said nothing, but looked over his shoulder just as Hux rubbed at his neck, unthinking, where one of Ren’s suck-marks had persisted for a fortnight after the evening they’d spend in Hux’s bed, kissing, biting and murmuring in the dark. Hux flushed- embarrassed and angry, and went back to scouring the crash site. What he saw did not make him hopeful. Jungle. Wreckage. And gore. 

“How did this happen- where’s the pilot?” Ren asked. Hux grunted and began pointing at various spots of gore.

“Over there. Over there, and a little bit over there,” he reported flippantly, feeling Ren’s annoyance radiating off him. Or was that amused irritation? It was hard to tell when he was wearing that stupid mask. 

“The sudden drop out of hyperspace. The crash, the communications going out around the same time as the explosion, and right at the perfect point to drop us out near an uninhabited planet-” Ren began. 

“I know. Our Lambdas are an improvement over the Empire’s make by leaps and bounds, they don’t simply _fail_ like this. This was sabotage,” Hux cut in.

“Someone tried to kill you. So much for the loyalty you take so seriously and preach so much about, Hux.” 

Hux curled his lip. Ren was still angry, riled up- or was trying to rile _him_ up to lead to a discussion about their previous altercation that had resulted in Hux kicking him out of his quarters with both of them covered in bite marks and bruises from insistent kisses. As if Hux hadn’t _just been thinking about it_ , in spite of the frustration it gave him. 

Hux let out a snide laugh, watching Ren poke through the wreckage, mildly amused- though he’d never admit it- as Ren lifted a piece of metal, found it unimportant, and tossed it aside carelessly, all with the Force. He looked away and scoured the ground close to the battered helm of the ship, hoping for something, anything of use. Fruitless endeavour, only resulting in grass stains on the knees of his already singed, charred, torn and bloody uniform. He straightened, his back twinging in protest.

“ _Please_. I thought you could read minds, Ren. Surely you don’t believe they hate _me_ more than they hate _you_? With your tantrums, your brooding, storming through the ship like you own it, your filthy Knights tracking dirt all over the ship, and your-”

“My _what?”_

He glanced over his shoulder, alarmed at how close Ren’s voice had been- and his ear brushed the muzzle of Ren’s mask. Ren had come right up behind him in an instant. Hux turned to face him and glowered with all the scorn he could muster.

“Aside from your lack of respect for _personal boundaries?_ Your _mask_ ,” he answered, lip curling again. “Vader wore his because he couldn’t _breathe_ without it. His entire suit was made for the purpose of keeping him _alive. You,_ you just play dress-up, like a child pretending to be his hero. Or is it because you’re trying to hide the fact that your Rebel scum parentage would be unmistakable if you were to take it-”

He was cut off by the crackling, snapping thrum of Ren’s lightsaber igniting a breath away from his neck. 

“The First Order, despite its technical prowess, would take ages to search our path,” Ren said softly, just loud enough to be heard over the thrum of his lightsaber. “No one knows where we are. No one would miss you. No one would know. So go ahead, General. Finish what you were saying.”

Hux didn’t look away. Didn’t blink. Didn’t falter. 

“Snoke would know. He’ll dig it out of your head, reduce you to another useless mess of migraines and hemiplegia. Only difference is, I wouldn’t be around to pick you up, make you take care of yourself, help straighten out your thoughts- since you keep crawling to me every time.”

There was a long, pregnant pause, then Ren shut off his lightsaber. 

“I don’t understand why Snoke hasn’t disposed of you,” he growled softly. 

“Which only proves my point that you understand _nothing_ of how the army of the First Order works,” Hux retorted. “So blind to everything around you with your focus on your Force oriented missions-”

“We can bicker about that later,” Ren snapped. “We have to find a way to get a message off this rock and let the Order know where we are.”

Hux held out his hands, his face the definition of exasperation, indicating the jungle around them, the wreckage, the gore and fires.

“With _what_? Perhaps one of those trees? Or that large rock over there that looks like your _head?_ Unless you have a long range comm hidden in that mask or your lightsaber doubles as one, we’re all alone out here with no -”

There was a thump in the grass behind them, and both men turned to see a bloody haunch lying in the grass. Ren leaned down to look at it, his head tilting almost comically, and Hux found the situation so ridiculous, so unbelievable, that he let out a loud, uncontrolled hiccough of laughter. 

“It’s… meat?” Ren said, more a bewildered question at the absurdity of the situation than an observation, though he snapped his head up at Hux’s strained laugh. Regaining his composure quickly, Hux narrowed his eyes and scanned the tree line.

“Bait,” he said quietly. 

As if to prove him right, a furred, tusked behemoth crashed through the trees with a roar into their midst. The creature roared, showing off a very large maw with even larger teeth. Its blue fur was bristled in a ridge along its back, down to the tip of its slender tail, and every muscle was coiled, preparing for another charge. Ren instantly ignited his lightsaber, sliding into his combat stance. He dug his feet into the ground, both hands grasping the hilt of his weapon as he lifted it to the beast in clear challenge. 

“Hux, stay behind me!”

His answer was the sound of retreating footfalls. Ren turned to see Hux dashing into the thicket.

“Really?” Ren asked in disbelief- and for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint, hurt- that Hux didn’t trust his capabilities. 

His hesitation only lasted an instant, as the creature leapt at him, its claws raking furrows in the grass and soil. Deciding it was too large to attack directly with his weapon, Ren reached out with the Force to seize hold of the creature’s neck. With a motion of his hand pulling back, and to the side, he snapped the thick vertebrae of his attacker with a loud wet snap. 

The beast fell to the ground in a heap, just a few scant inches in front of him, twitching a few times before going still. Ren cast his gaze around, mentally scanning for Hux’s position. Yet again, he found he couldn’t pinpoint Hux’s mind. The worst time and place for Hux to have this particularly annoying quirk, he thought. 

“Hux, you coward! I don’t know how far you got, but you can come out-”

He was interrupted as two more of the beasts charged at him, infuriated by the death of their comrade. Ren made to slash at one and reach for the Force to snap the neck of the other, as he had done with the first, but was unable to hold back the furious attack of both. His weapon was knocked from his hand, and a large, clawed forepaw slapped at his head, knocking his helmet clear off. 

Hidden in the tall grass where he’d been searching for his blaster, where he’d thought _hopefully_ , that it had fallen somewhere and not been destroyed in the crash, Hux blanched seeing the helmet land in front of him, but was relieved it was blessedly _empty_. He was torn- should he run and try to find higher ground? Should he try to prod Ren and see if he was dead? He was not a warrior- if he’d had a sniper rifle, perhaps he could have taken one out, but with only the small blades in his sleeves? He didn’t stand a chance. 

“What’ve you got there?” said a voice. “No eating it, let me see before you dig in. Down, girl.”

An older man, probably in his seventies, came out to see what the beasts had pinned down. One moved aside, and to his relief- and annoyance at being relieved- Hux saw Ren was merely pinned under a large paw, not gored open or ravaged. Unconscious, but intact, and alive. Hux squinted. Something about the man’s accent, his clothing….

“Damnit, how’d a single man kill your sister?” the man asked, clearly taken aback and upset as he knelt by the dead beast. One of the living beasts made a mournful growl, sitting on its haunches. The man petted its side. 

“We’ll bury her, I promise.”

Without looking at him, the man pointed a blaster pistol in Hux’s direction.

“You in the grass. Come on out. Nice and easy.”

Hux got to his feet and trudged out, holding his hands up. The man eyed him, still levelling the blaster at him. Behind him, the beasts growled, but at least they had backed off and were no longer squishing Ren. Clearly, they wouldn’t attack without the man’s command. 

“One wrong move and I’ll set the norwoods on you, stranger.”

“You tamed them?” Hux asked in disbelief. 

“Been here a long time,” was the tired, wary reply. 

“Your uniform… your accent… you’re from Alderaan,” Hux said tentatively- and purposely let his First Order accent drop, allowing the Outer Rim accent of Arkanis to resurface for the first time in years. The man grimaced and looked away- but his blaster didn’t waver from where it was aimed at Hux’s chest.

“I am. Was. Palace guard- was off-planet when… when the Empire…” he trailed off. “The Empire took most of it away before the war even started. Most of it was lost when Brea died… when Bail was lost, and the princess joined the Rebellion on our behalf. The family was no longer on Alderaan, so I had no reason to be there anymore. I ran here to be alone after Bail died.” 

He glanced at Hux, who had been scheming the instant he knew the man had been isolated since before the destruction of Alderaan. 

“Can’t say I recognise your uniform.”

“Sir….” Hux began, trailing off in a clear request to know his name. 

“Bylsma,” he replied.

“Bylsma,” Hux repeated. “I… don’t know how long you’ve been here, and I don’t know how to tell you this… but the war is over. The Empire fell.”

Bylsma narrowed his eyes. He was measuring Hux, taking in his stance, possibly trying to pinpoint his accent. 

“Where are you from? I can’t place your accent.”

“Arkanis,” Hux answered truthfully. “I was five, almost six, when I watched the Executor-class Ravager fall from the sky, destroyed by the Rebellion. I grew up with the knowledge the Empire had fallen.”

A grunt, a wince- the man realising how long it had been, how old he was, what he’d missed in all these years of isolation.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

Hux nodded at Ren, lying unmasked for all to see. 

“The truth is unconscious right there,” he said gently. “Take a look and tell me you don’t see his lineage in his face. He’s a son of Alderaan, of Naboo, of Corellia.”

Bylsma leaned down to look into Ren’s face. 

“His mother is Leia Organa,” Hux said somberly. 

“…Princess Leia?” Bylsma asked in disbelief. He studied Ren’s face a bit closer, and recognition lit his eyes as he saw what Hux had seen- the stubborn, proud set of the jaw. The soft eyes. 

“I… yes. I see her in his face,” he admitted, seemingly taken aback. 

“His parents won the war,” Hux said. “The Death Star was destroyed- as was the second one.”

Bylsma looked up at him, aghast, gently pushing the nearest norwood away from Ren’s prone form.

“Another one?”

Hux gave a tired smile to mask his disdain and derision.

“The Galactic Empire- especially its Emperor- was never renowned for its creativity. There are remnants of the Empire left, but not for much longer. There’s something else being built. Something to bring peace, order, stability to the galaxy,” Hux said, his small, tired smile still playing on his lips. 

Bylsma turned his attention back to Ren, studying his face. Without thinking, almost protectively, Hux moved closer to Ren, standing close to his head, putting himself between him and the norwoods. 

“I knew his grandfather- Bail Organa. Not Vader,” Bylsma said. His voice was said. “Knew his mother, too. Leia was an incredible woman… Is he… is he like her, at all?”

Bylsma wasn’t looking at Hux, but marvelling at Ren, the son of the Princess of Alderaan. Practically royalty to him. Hux smirked, then let his face go neutral before the older man had the chance to look back at him. 

“He is. He’ll deny any such claims, but he’s very much like her, in many ways. Especially the stubborn streak.”

That actually got a laugh from Bylsma, and the man’s entire posture seemed to soften and relax.

Hux paused. 

“Why are you still here, Bylsma? The war is over. Surely you knew?”

Bylsma got up and started unfolding a travel litter from his pack. Apparently, he’d expected survivors when he saw the ship come crashing down. Hux wasn’t complaining- he was pretty sure he and the old man would be able to bodily carry Ren anywhere. He helped Bylsma load Ren onto it, and followed him- and the remaining norwoods- to the older man’s ship. 

Along the way, he explained his story. Didn’t want to be found, wasn’t sure if the enemy would be looking for Alderaanian survivors, and didn’t want to lose another home. They loaded Ren onto one of the beds Bylsma had made in his near-derelict ship, and Hux prodded Ren mentally, checking his status. He wasn’t good at the mental link between them, and he wasn’t sure he was even making contact. Regardless, Ren stayed out of commission. Bylsma looked at Hux entreatingly. 

“Vader. The Emperor. They’re really gone?”

Hux placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“They’re gone. They underestimated what they were up against. They were arrogant, and thought bigger meant better, infallible. They were wrong, and they fell- hard.”

Hux gave him a serious look.

“It’s time to rejoin the rest of the galaxy, Bylsma,” he said gently. 

“You’re sure it’s safe?” came the imploring reply.

“I am. Let me use your ship’s communications to contact my allies. It’s time to get off this planet and revel in the hard earned peacetime we’ve won.”

There was a groan, and Ren stirred. Hux felt palpable relief wash over him as Ren sat up. 

_Ren, we’ve found a ticket off this rock, but I need you to play along._

_Hux, what are you on about?_

_Just play along,_ Hux said firmly. 

“Ben, you’re awake,” Hux said aloud pleasantly. 

“Ben?!” Ren all but yelped, and the anger rolling off him hit Hux like a heatwave. 

_You told this man? This beast-taming wildman? And you’re taking him with us?_ He raged. 

_Absolutely not, you imbecile. I plan on having him killed the instant our pick up arrives. Just play along so he won’t order those damned beasts to attack us, and we can use his comms,_ Hux shot back. 

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “You’ll be fine. Bylsma is letting us contact our friends for a shuttle. We’ll be going home soon- I’m sure your mother is worried sick.”

Ren mentally seethed at Hux, who continued smiling magnanimously. 

“Yes, I’m sure she is,” he managed. “I’m ready to go home.”

 _You will **pay** for this, Hux, _he growled. 

_If not for the happenstance of your parentage, this feral old coot would have fed us to those furballs, Ren. When we get back, you can go back to ignoring me- or if you absolutely must, destroy another room of consoles. Just deal with it until Phasma gets here._

_——_

The arrival of the pick up shuttle didn’t take long- not with Phasma on it. The Lambda landed gracefully in front of the small party of Ren, Hux, Bylsma and his remaining pets. The older man didn’t like the look of the shuttle- he recognised the Lambda’s design, and the norwoods, sensing their master’s unease, bristled and began to growl. The ramp lowered, and Bylsma gasped in horror as he was greeted by the sight of Phasma, resplendent and horrifyingly intimidating in her chrome, and a squadron of Stormtroopers in their gleaming white armour- the design of which had barely changed from the Imperial fashion, only improved. 

Phasma didn’t wait for the order-or any order. She saw the aggressive stance of the enormous norwoods, opened fire on the beasts, and her squadron followed suit. Bylsma wailed in devastated horror as his companions fell to the Trooper’s fire- and Phasma’s unerring aim. Hux raised his hand at Phasma for her to cease fire. 

“Don’t kill the man- I have a better idea. Take out his comms, and leave him here. He saw Ren’s face,” he told her. The incline of her helmeted head was enough to indicate she knew exactly what Hux meant, and she understood completely. Phasma didn’t show her face to hardly anyone else, either. 

“We’ll use this planet as practice for Starkiller Base once it’s operational. In the meantime, Phasma, prepare a list. I want to see every personnel member who had access to my shuttle before it left for Arkanis.”

He turned his face to the shell-shocked man at the base of the ramp. 

“Goodbye, Bylsma. Enjoy your peacetime vacation.”

————

“I am glad to see you survived, and in one piece,” Snoke said, but Hux saw how his focus was on Ren, how Hux was an afterthought.

He was used to it, and took a small comfort in being overlooked and underestimated by the Supreme Leader. It made hiding his own feelings all the easier. 

“Supreme Leader, I believe I have identified the traitor that sabotaged the shuttle,” Hux said once he was sure Snoke was done praising his apprentice for doing the bare minimum. 

Snoke turned his gaze to Hux, and Ren cut in.

“I will punish the saboteur,” he said emphatically. 

“Absolutely not. This was aimed at me. This was an attack against a General of the First Order, and I don’t believe the saboteur would have gone through with their treason if they’d known you were coming, Ren. Supreme Leader, I request permission to deal with the traitor myself. I will be … neater with my methods than Ren,” Hux said firmly. 

Snoke eyed Hux with thinly veiled contempt, and Ren radiated anger at Hux. 

“Of course you will. Very well. Go deal with the traitor, General Hux.”

“Thank you, Supreme Leader,” Hux said before he gave an abbreviated bow and turned to leave the room. 

Ren watched him go, still furious over the manipulation on the planet’s surface. Snoke watched Ren’s face carefully, sensing, feeling his rage.

“I don’t see his worth, Supreme Leader,” Ren spat.

“You do not need to, only to know that he has some, however specific and small it is,” Snoke replied shortly. 

“He’s not to be trusted,” Ren continued, unable to stop himself. “Surely you know his mind! He wants to take your place, it’s very likely he wants to kill you.”

Snoke smirked, the expression making his face a terrifying twisted mask.

“He wants to kill a lot of people, my apprentice. I don’t take it personally.”

Ren was quiet, listening to Snoke- and Hux was quiet as he left, every word flowing into his mind through the odd connection developing between himself and Ren. 

“Men like Hux are useful, my apprentice. Men consumed with ambition, fuelled by spite, who can set aside their pride. Men who have shame burning inside them.”

Ren snorted. 

“Shame? Setting aside pride? Hux is as prideful and shameless as they come, Supreme Leader.”

Snoke studied him a moment. 

“Hux is one those pups you see in fighting arenas. Those vicious hounds that grew up abused, tormented by either the bitch that whelped them, their handlers, or fate itself. Regardless, they never forget where they came from, and they never forgive what- or who- tormented them. They set aside their pride and nurse that shame of being weak, of being abused, into a fire that makes them useful. That fire, that hunger to achieve, to prove themselves, is what makes them willing to do what it takes.”

Hux motioned to Phasma when he saw her. 

“Did you find the technician?” he asked, Snoke’s words still boiling in his head and stoking that fire that he indeed, had burning inside him, the fire that had once made him rise through the ranks, but now made him a tool of Snoke. He kept his mind perfectly calm, collected and cool, cut off from Ren, lest he give away what he’d overheard.

That he had no worth aside from manipulating his past in order to make him do Snoke’s bidding.

Phasma, blunt as ever, lifted her bloody gauntlets by way of a half assed apology.

“I did, but there isn’t much to interrogate, I’m afraid. Went feral. Put it down.”

Hux actually laughed. 

“Well done, Phasma, he wasn’t my main target, and I know you do love to get a little physical here and there.”

She made a satisfied sound that was an audible grin.

“Brooks is down in Engineering. He’s alone- I sent his attache on an errand for me. Shall we go?”

“Let’s. Brooks and I have some catching up to do,” Hux said pleasantly, and the two took the lift to Engineering.

“Crash aside, did the meeting go well? Sloane is in good health?” Phasma asked conversationally.

“Sloane is well. I am not speaking of the summit,” Hux groused, pulling a pair of gloves from his pocket. They were supple, broken in, and well worn- but well cared for. 

Phasma tilted her head as she watched Hux slide his current gloves off, flex his bare fingers, letting them air out before slipping his hands into the worn pair. He slid his uniform gloves into his pocket and fiddled with his fingers, sliding the gloves into place so they looked like a second skin over his hands. He lifted a perfectly groomed eyebrow at Phasma, smiling slightly.

“Yes, the work gloves. I said I’d be less messy than Ren, and I do plan on it- but I did not specify that I’d be neat in any way.”

“I take it you want me to assist in getting him to a table?” Phasma asked, the excitement evident in her voice. 

“If you don’t mind,” Hux replied. 

“I never mind assisting in your interrogations, Hux.”

The lift doors opened, and the two of them exited to see Brooks standing at the railing, overseeing the droid at work down below in the lower levels. His level was empty, as Hux had planned. No one would see the two of them take the man away. Brooks turned when he heard the sound of Hux’s boots on the floor. His brow furrowed, surprise on his face, but he recovered quickly, turning the expression to concerned relief. 

“General Hux,” he said lightly. “I was pleased to hear you survived that unfortunate crash and were quickly rescued. The Order would have suffered if it lost you.”

“No you weren’t,” Hux replied, curling his lip slightly. “Spare me the simpering, Brooks.”

Hux nodded to Phasma. 

“Captain, if you would, please.”

Brooks glanced at Phasma just in time to catch the sight of the butt of her rifle smashing into the side of his head. 

—

Brooks groaned and opened his eyes, which slid in and out of focus. Hux smiled at him as soon as he saw the man had gotten his bearings. 

“Are we awake, then? Good.”

Brooks made to move- and found he was strapped to an interrogation table. He jerked against the restraints, panicked.

“What is this?” he demanded, voice shrill. Hux continued to smile, a cold, cruel curve of his lips.

“Come now, Admiral. We both know why you’re here,” he said softly- almost gently. “Your technician told Phasma everything.”

“I didn’t sabotage your ship, General,” Brooks said defiantly, and Hux let out a soft chuckle.

“Oh, I know, Admiral. As I said, the technician told Phasma everything before he died, weren’t you listening?”

Hux came close and grabbed the collar of Brooks’ undershirt- and the Admiral realised he’d been stripped of his uniform, down to his skivvies. How had he not noticed? His pulse skyrocketed, and he panted slightly in panic as Hux pulled him forward. 

“You, however, were his superior. Responsibility ultimately lies with you- and the orders you give.”

“I-I’ve known you since you were a child, Armitage!” he babbled, noticing that without any discernible movement, Hux had a knife between his fingers, and the glittering blade was close to his throat. Hux’s eyes flashed, but his face remained the same cynical, patronising mask. 

“Oh, I remember,” he said, his voice soft, deadly.

Brooks bared his teeth in rage.

“You just needed an excuse, didn’t you? Spineless, snivelling coward, just like when you were a child. Do you have _any_ idea how _little_ your father thought of you? How _beneath_ him you were?” he spat. 

The smile on Hux’s face went from cynical to final- a condemning expression that made Brooks’ blood run cold to his core.

“I do, and it’s why I had him killed.”

He turned to Phasma, and his face, his body language, his tone, all became conversational, as if having a casual discussion by the caffmaker. 

“I realised I haven’t thanked you in the past month for that, Captain. My apologies. Thank you again, for helping me get rid of that slovenly bastard.”

Phasma, who was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest, made a noncommittal grunt under her helmet.

“Of course.”

Brooks stared in horror, and wildly, thought Phasma would push herself from the wall and saunter over to do the dirty work. That the wild woman Brendol had pulled from an even wilder planet would be the one to kill him. 

So focused on Phasma and her towering chrome form was he, that he didn’t notice the flash of metal. It took him a full ten seconds for the pain to register, but only three to feel the wet heat across his belly. He looked down in horror to see his undershirt sliced, crimson spreading rapidly over his gut, and the pale pink and purple of his entrails slipping through the sliced skin, muscle, and peritoneum. He began to gasp in pain, in panic, as the full situation crashed over him- Hux had pulled a knife from _somewhere,_ and had sliced him open like a nerf for slaughter. He was staring at his own innards, becoming drenched in his own blood. 

He was in shock, and almost didn’t notice when Hux adjusted the sides of the table. It wasn’t until Hux began to push him forward that he was slowly tilting forward, did Brooks notice his situation was becoming worse by the second- as gravity assisted in helping his bowels fall from the gaping wound in his abdomen. 

He screamed. 

Hux watched, face impassive, eyes glittering as Brooks stared down at his own entrails falling onto the deck with wet slapping sounds. The knife in his hand glistened with a sheen of crimson, running down the blade and over his gloves, soaking the cuff of his sleeve. He paid it no mind. 

“You,” he said between Brooks’ screams so the man would hear him. “My father. Snoke… Ren. You all underestimate me.”

“Please,” Brooks panted. Surely if he got medical attention now, he would survive.

“You see me as something weak. Something you can control. You humiliated me. Belittled me. Abused me.”

Hux slid the knife away back into place in his sleeve. His hands went to the restraints, and carefully, almost tenderly, he loosened them. With a sharp cry of pain and terror, Brooks fell from the table and onto his hands and knees, trying not to slip in his own blood and guts on the floor. 

“I am not weak,” Hux growled softly. “I am patient.”

Brooks began to cry as he slipped in his own viscera, rupturing a section of his small intestine. The stench of half digested food, of half formed shit, filled the air, creating an awful chaos with the scent of blood, sweat, and fear in the room. Hux continued to watch him, devoid of any compassion, any sign he was being affected by the suffering of the man wallowing in his own filth before him.

The scent of urine joined the awful motley of scents as Brooks saw the unmoving cruelty in Hux’s face, understood he was not going to leave this room alive, gave in to his fear and soiled himself. 

Hux didn’t even flinch.

“You’re a washed up old coot like my father. Like his other friends that mocked and tormented me. You had power once, to destroy people. But I will outlive you. I outlived half your coterie at this point, and I’ll outlive the rest of you, hold more power than all of you at the height of your glory put together. You sought to destroy _me_ , many times, but destroying people- destroying you?”

He leaned forward.

“That’s _nothing._ You are _nothing.”_

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Brooks wailed. “I was cruel to you as a child, your father had most of the power when Sloane wasn’t around, and your father- I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Hux repeated. “Do you remember when I said those same words?”

Brooks looked up, sweat, tears and snot on his face- as well as confusion. Hux tsked. 

“How soon we forget.”

He put a foot to Brooks’ bald head. Behind him, Phasma stirred, lifting her blaster, ready to shoot the man dead if he made a grab for Hux. Hux pushed Brooks’ head down towards the floor, within scant inches of the blood and viscera, the excrement and urine on the floor. 

“You dropped it, you won’t waste it. Get on your knees and lick it up _,_ _boy,_ ” Hux said, his voice silky smooth and full of menace. 

Brooks’ eyes nearly bulged from their sockets as he remembered that incident where he’d made the ten year old kneel in broken glass and wine. He had no one to blame but himself- he and Brendol- for creating the monster before him. 

His sinuses burning from unshed tears, from the ammonia and copper of the filth less than an inch away from his face, Brooks began to sob in earnest. Loud, pathetic cries of fear and pain. A horrifying grin full of white teeth spread over Hux’s face. 

“You weak little cur! Waste of space, pathetic, weak little bastard, you whiny, snivelling runt, I’ll _give you something **valid** to cry about,_” he snarled, and lifting his boot, he brought it back down again with all the power he could muster on the sobbing man’s head.

Again. And again, and again, until the sobs and screams turned to gurgles, turned to silence. 

“I will have the power to destroy worlds,” he hissed to the remains of the man who’d once tormented and abused him. “But you…”

He straightened his tunic and shook the blood, bone and gore from his boot. 

“You won’t get to see that.”

He nodded to Phasma, who followed in silent approval of the viciousness of Hux’s execution- the reason she appreciated, trusted, and followed him. They might as well have been born from the same litter of snarling predators in the same wilds, for all their ferocity, and it bound them in a unique friendship. 

They reached the door, and Hux hit the decon button before they left the room. The doors shut behind them, and the sound of white hot flames filling the room reached their ears. In a few moments, the room would be filled with ash, and cleaning droids would come in, dispose of the remains, repair and polish the room back to its stark, sterile pristine condition. 

Hux stopped at a uniform pressing room and had a droid bring him a freshly pressed uniform, and a brand new pair of boots from the fabricator. While he dressed, Phasma tossed the blood and gore spattered articles of clothing into the incinerator. Hux slid on his non-work gloves, tucking the bloody ones into the pocket of his new jodhpurs, and slid his freshly cleaned knives back into the custom slots in his sleeve that was standard for all his uniforms. 

All evidence of Brooks would be swept away- physically, by the droids and the incinerator, and all records of Brooks would be wiped clean by Hux himself. Brooks didn’t get to have a legacy. Not in Hux’s regime. Not in the First Order. The only trace of him that would exist would be the blood on Hux’s work gloves. 

Whistling a jaunty, slightly off-tune variation of the First Order’s military march, Hux strolled back to the bridge with Phasma, who radiated amusement. 

Finally, Hux let his mind close off to Ren- who’d been “watching” through Phasma’s eyes the entire time. 

He sat back on his bed, eyes wide and staring at nothing, in shock at the brutality this man had shown. A man he’d thought to be nothing more than a stuffed greatcoat with no teeth, only barking that came from a tiny toy hound that thought itself a hunter. Armitage Hux was anything but. 

Kylo Ren sat in his room and blinked rapidly at the empty space before him- and discovered, to his continued shock, that he was experiencing chills of genuine fear- and arousal- at seeing the true nature of the man he’d thought worthless.

The question was- did Snoke know Hux’s true nature?

Or would it matter if he did?


	11. Just Fuck Already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux and Kylo stop posturing long enough to do what they've been wanting to do for ages now.

“Barracks are complete, and the heating system is running, sir, shall we move in the troops?”

“Affirmative, Captain. Move the tech teams as well as the geologists into the first two wings, then allow the rest to move in after them,” Hux replied. On the holo, Phasma inclined her head, the light glinting on her chrome helmet. 

“We will have them settled before sundown,” she confirmed. Hux lifted a brow.

“Have you already been fitted, Captain?” He asked. Phasma's mask showed no emotion, but the slight hesitation in her reply spoke measures of her annoyance at the reminder.

“No, General. The tailor is fitting me first thing in the morning.”

“Very well, then. See you tomorrow, Captain.”

“Good evening, General,” Phasma replied before cutting off the feed. 

Hux stood on the bridge, hands resting on the railing as he surveyed feeds of the construction progress relayed to him from the ground forces. It was going well, and fortune seemed to be favouring them. Not only had they been aided by the tunnels already in place from a mixture of nature and industrious Sith and Jedi alike, but said tunnels had yielded ore that helped replenish their own supply. Between that and the fresh water, as well as some of the indigenous life being edible, and rather palatable, the Order hadn't had to move the Supremacy into the system out of its current hiding place, and had been sustaining itself with few trips out of the system. 

Now, all that was left, aside from finishing the weapon itself, was to prime the public to take a stand against the New Republic Non-Centrists, to firmly take a side against the Resistance, to grease some palms, kiss some babies, and extend the field of future recruits and territory. Snoke had sneered at the idea, Ren had snorted in derision, and even Phasma had been less than impressed. 

Appearing as if summoned by his thoughts, Ren was striding across the bridge towards him. Hux moaned to himself. He'd forgotten to tell Ren he'd be getting fitted this evening. He didn't see this going well. 

“Hux. You seem to be recovering well. I barely notice a limp.” The comment was supposed to be pleasant, but Hux still bit back a scowl. 

“So it would seem,” he growled, then took a breath, preparing for either the fury, or the petulance, neither of which he was in the mood to deal with. 

“Something on your mind?” Ren asked, probing pointedly at Hux’s mind as he did so, and Hux narrowed his eyes in annoyance. 

_Stop that._

“Yes. A tailor is coming to fit me for dress whites- and you for some dress.... whatever it is you wear, so I expect you to meet me in my office in two hours,” Hux said, pulling himself away from the railing. Ren didn't move, save for his head, which was eerily following Hux's motions. 

“What.”

“You heard me,” Hux groused, moving to head off the bridge while nodding slightly to the officers saluting him as he left. Ren stood there a few moments more before striding off after Hux, his long legs letting him catch up easily with the General’s slightly limping gait. 

“Why?” He demanded. Hux grunted. 

“Remember? The Gala?” he asked. “For the representatives of the worlds allied with the Order. A celebration of our alliances and treaties, and showing a degree of transparency with their senators. It’s also a honeypot to attract more worlds to come under our banner without blatant subjugation. When worlds become allied territory of the First Order, it’s easier to recruit children without destroying anything that could prove to be valuable.”

“I remember, but that doesn't explain why I am being fitted,” Ren replied, sounding irritated.

Hux sighed as he reached the lift. Why was he always so difficult?

“Because you are going,” he said simply, massaging his temple with a gloved hand. Ren tensed.

“I don't think so.”

“It's not open for negotiation, Ren. You, Phasma and I are the triumvirate of the Order and representatives of the Supreme Leader. It is necessary for us to make an appearance. You and Phasma won't be required to say anything to anyone- in fact, I would advise you not to say anything at all,” Hux said coolly. 

Ren made a soft sound of frustration and anger.

“If anything, I am advised to bring you to act as my guard and silent intimidation factor,” Hux continued. 

This gave Ren pause. 

“Guard?”

Hux let out a derisive snort as the lift stopped and the doors opened. Smoothing his tunic out of habit, he made his way out towards his quarters. Stubbornly, Ren followed him. 

“Why do you need a guard?”

“Come now, Ren, don't be naïve,” Hux sneered. “I am not blind to the fact that the Republic and the Resistance would love the opportunity to take me out. You're coming to this gala to prevent that. Assuming you can handle something like guarding a 'sycophant' against a sniper's rifle or poisoned blade, that is.”

He stopped at his door, swiping his key card, and noticed Ren had stopped a distance back, silently glowering. 

“My abilities are not at your beck and call whenever you wish, General,” Ren growled. Hux lifted a brow airily.

“Really, then? Shall I inform the Supreme Leader why I had to push this social back so that my leg could heal? Why we ended up needing to make that side trip for Lady Carise, because we needed a cover for how I’d really broken my leg?”

There was an audible squeal of enamel on enamel as Ren ground his teeth behind his mask, and he turned on his heel, storming away. Hux called after him.

“The tailor will here in two hours, Ren. It would behove you to be here!”

_I hate you._

_I know. That doesn't mean you get out of this, Ren._

Ren showed up an hour early, despite his reservations. He wanted to argue with Hux on his attendance to this social the General had planned. He hated social gatherings, and he wasn't going to go without putting up a fight. Even if he had to admit that Hux was right – a thought that made him grit his teeth- and that he very well may need protection from enemies. He paused by Hux's door, ready to force it open, when he stopped. 

It was faint, but unmistakable. The stirring, sweeping, thrumming sound of string music, unfurling, coiling and undulating through the air. Low and melancholy, the song practically sang with sorrow and wistfulness. Was Hux listening to dusk music?

Ren gently manipulated the door, and almost silently, with only a faint hiss, it slid open. Hux was not in the main receiving room, and the music- oddly clear and highly defined- was coming from his sleeping area. 

Peering around the corner, Ren blinked as he saw Hux sitting on his bed, a cello between his knees. His side was to Ren, but his eyes were closed as he leaned into the instrument, long pale fingers playing over the neck, the other hand drawing the bow over the strings. His face was utterly content, a small smile curling his mouth as he played. The way the General cradled the instrument in his hold was oddly intimate, and Ren almost considered leaving, but he stood, transfixed. 

Hux had stripped his greatcoat and tunic, his boots off, leaving his pants, socks and sleeveless under-shirt. His hair was still well groomed, and the removed articles of clothing were laid out neatly. Even in a private moment, one in which the General believed himself to be alone, he was still orderly. 

Ren stared, unsure what to do, but unable to move, not wanting to leave. The music was stirring feelings in his chest he wasn't capable of describing, feelings he didn't know how to explain. The movement of Hux's fingers over the neck, the stroking of the bow over the strings, had Ren mesmerised. The music swelled, crescendoed, the rich harmony filling the room, and the song evoked images of moonlit scenery he'd long tried to erase from his mind, memories of arms around his shoulders, of a soft voice that he wanted to forget singing gently in his ear as he was rocked lovingly. An ache, unlike anything he had felt in years, surged in his chest, and a hand flew to his sternum, grabbing at the black cloth of his shawl. Ren felt his chest hitch, a small sound escaping him as his knees wobbled. 

The music stopped abruptly. 

“...Ren?”

Hux's voice was uncertain, apprehensive as he started. Ren straightened as Hux got uncertainly to his feet, laying his cello carefully beside his uniform, the bow resting beside it. Had Ren not seen Hux so content, so immersed in his playing, he would have smashed the instrument then and there, so deep was the cut that the melody had lanced through him. 

“You play well,” he managed. 

For the first time, Hux was at a loss, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood.

“Thank you.... you're here early.”

Relieved to forget about the tugging of a polarity in his chest that threatened to bring him from the comfortable depths he'd fought so hard to sink to, Ren forced a scowl before pulling off his mask. 

“I don't see the point of being fitted for anything, especially dress clothes, for going with you to this event,” he said, glad for the change of environment. Hux scowled. 

“You're not getting dress clothes, Ren, just a cloak and cover that isn't ratted, and your overtunic will have a red trim. That's all.”

Ren cocked his head. 

“You would _want_ me wearing my mask, then?”

“Yes. You are to be my guard, my intimidation factor- as will Phasma. She will be wearing her armour as well, not that I could expect or convince her to wear anything else. I will be wearing dress whites. You won't have to say a word- I actually would advise you not say anything at all, unless it is to someone that is pushing their luck,” Hux replied. 

Ren was quiet, watching as the General moved to the main receiving area, sitting at the desk and pulling out a cigarra. Hux lit it, and took a long drag, leaning back in his chair to let smoke unfurl from his mouth. Ren lifted a brow.

“Those are bad for you.”

“So is destroying my ship, but you do it anyway,” Hux retorted blithely. “On a semi-regular basis. So was kissing you- and least that won't become a habit.”

Ren clammed up at that and despite himself, his neck burned. He had no idea how to respond to that. Had his kiss been that horrible? No, he remembered Hux reacting- he'd enjoyed it, was almost willing to go further. It had been his comment about his father that had Hux kicking him out. However, he wasn't going to apologise. 

“You enjoyed it,” he said instead, in an attempt to keep himself from exploding in a fit of conflicted emotions. Control. He had to keep control. 

Hux didn't reply, taking another long drag of his cigarra as he reached over to pull a bottle of brandy from under his desk, followed by two glasses. He poured two fingers into each glass and held one out to Ren. Hesitantly, Ren took the glass, only taking a sip when Hux took a hard hit of his own. 

“I did,” Hux admitted. “You were not in your right state of mind, however, and I still question whether you truly meant it. Especially after your sentiments during that little fiasco with our ship going down.”

Ren swirled the amber fluid in the glass. It was sweet, and warmed his throat smoothly. It was obviously expensive. He expected no less from Hux, truth be told. 

“As I said. I was sound of mind, just in pain, and wasn't willing to posture at that point. As for the ship… I was angry.”

Hux looked at him from over the rim of his glass, a red eyebrow lifting. After a long silence, he set the glass down. 

“As was I. We seem to thrive on insults and passive aggressive stabs when we’re finding ourselves in precarious situations,” he said dryly. “So tell me, Ren. Where do we stand? Was that simply a slip of professionalism, a momentary indulgence, or do you want more out of what transpired between us? Is it simply physical? What is it you want from me?”

Ren swallowed, still tasting brandy on his tongue. He didn't answer, sitting on the sofa near Hux's desk. The General watched him, eyes as sharp and observant as ever, glittering with curiosity. Ren's throat stuck, and he had a hard time bringing words to his tongue and lips. 

_Attachment. Sentiment. Those flaws were what caused the downfall of your grandfather. Weaknesses that brought the downfall of the Old Empire. Do not mistake the weakness of compassion for the strength of burning passion for your power, Kylo Ren. If you must focus on someone, focus on yourself, or the ideal of what you must become._

Snoke's words echoed in his head, and he took another sip of brandy, thinking. Hux watched patiently, putting out the now nearly depleted cigarra. Ren swallowed again.

“Like I said. I wasn't asking you to marry me, Hux. I... admit, you're attractive, strong, and frustratingly, the only person who won't give in to me. You've even put me in my place, ordered me through blackmail, made me your servant.”

The words were coming like vomit now, and he couldn't stop them. He wanted to blame the brandy, but that was a lie- and Ren was no lightweight, even if he barely touched alcohol. It was an infection under his skin, and he had to express the virulence before it consumed him alive. 

“I... I liked it. I liked having you tell me what to do. I didn't have to think, just do, instead of the constant guarding, thinking, weighing my responses and actions. It was... relief. Between that, the way your mind calms and silences my own chaotic thoughts...you give my mind stability. Between that, and my attraction to you, it spiralled out of control. I just... I wanted you. I still do.”

Hux lifted a brow. 

“So what is it you _want_ , Ren?”

Ren downed the rest of his brandy. 

“I... I want-”

He was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“General? Tailor.”

Hux glanced at Ren.

“We will continue this after the fitting, if you care to stay afterwards. Shall I have dinner brought up for you?” He asked quietly. 

Ren could only nod as he put his mask on. Cutting things off now, leaving them as they were, was unthinkable. He'd couldn't stop now that he'd cut open this infection, and he wanted to know where Hux stood on the matter.

“Enter,” Hux called. 

The door slid open, and a short stout woman with a severe grey bun entered with a droid behind her that was carrying a number of crates. Hux waved her to the table in front of his sofa. 

“Thank you, Linara,” Hux said amenably. “Lord Ren is rather impatient, so perhaps we can have him fitted first, seeing as it is only for a cape and overtunic?”

He glanced at Ren, who, without a word, turned to look at the woman. Linara, to her credit, didn't flinch. 

“If that is acceptable with you, my Lord?” She asked respectfully. Ren inclined his head, and removed his cloak and overtunic to be measured. 

“Right then,” Linara said, deploying a small probe that hummed into life and began darting about Ren, measuring his arms, legs, shoulders, chest and waist with bright blue beams of light. It didn't take long before it beeped, and a telltale chimed on Linara's datapad. She nodded in satisfaction.

“Thank you my Lord,” she said, inclining her head. Ren silently returned the gesture.

“General?” Linara asked, turning to Hux. Hux stood, silent as the droid measured him. 

“Pants?” She asked. Hux thinned his mouth. 

“Same measurements, Linara. I have kept to my weight ardently,” he said, his voice faintly tense. 

Linara shrugged.

“Very well, General, I'll come back for alterations a few days before the gala if need be.”

“Thank you,” Hux replied. He glanced at Ren.

_Thank you._

Ren's reply was simply a mental grunt, too distracted by the talk they were about to have once they were done being fitted- and the curiosity of why Hux was suddenly so shy about taking off his pants, even for something as important as measurements for a set of dress whites. 

Linara's measurements took longer with Hux, as there were various articles to also weigh, compare and measure, as well as questions- did he want the greatcoat for this set to be longer, heavier, did he want the red or black trim, and would he prefer silver or gold metal for his medal settings?

Finally, after everything was noted, measured, and recorded, after different cloth types and trim samples, coat linings and brocade bits were approved, Linara and her droid bid the two of them a good evening. Hux ordered them dinner, then moved to sit on the sofa. Ren joined him, taking off his mask and setting it on the table in front of them. Hux lifted his brows. 

“Now. Where were we?”

“I want you,” Ren blurted. “I … I can't get attached, I'm not allowed, it's not a luxury I am permitted as a Knight of Ren.”

“So you simply want to fuck me, is that it?” Hux asked, completely serious. 

Taken aback by the General's bluntness, all Ren could do was nod, and Hux was silent, watching him. 

“You piss me off,” Ren finally said. “I can't see us doing anything more than working together, sleeping together- even if I could permit myself trying a relationship with you, Hux. You don't give in, you're stubborn, arrogant, simpering...but you drive me mad. And don't deny that you want me, I've seen your thoughts.”

“I already told you that I am hardly adverse to the idea, Ren.”

“Then why did you stop me the last time?” Ren asked.

“You had a migraine. I had a still relatively new break in my leg, and I didn't feel comfortable with the situation.... and as I said, there is something I need to tell you, before I take you to my bed,” Hux replied. 

“Tell me what?”

They were interrupted once again as dinner arrived- Ren hurriedly shoved his mask on once more, and answered the door. Thankfully, it was a droid that had brought the trays, and no awkward situation was to be had. Bringing the trays back to the table, Ren sat back down beside Hux. 

“Tell me what?” He repeated as Hux poured wine from the bottle that had been delivered. Hux took a long quaff from the wine. 

“Don't get drunk,” Ren said. “I want sober honesty from you.”

“I am hardly a lightweight, Ren. I can take at least three shots of unfiltered absinthe without passing out,” Hux said dryly, but there was a bitterness under the tone that had Ren wondering about the implications. “Also, I'm famished, let me eat a bit before I show you my throat, mm?”

Ren took the mask off yet again and silently, the two men set to eating- though the silence was hardly as uncomfortable as it would have been months ago. After Hux had finished most of his meal, and a glass of wine, he wiped his mouth, and looked over at Ren- whose own plate was empty. 

“Hungry?”

“I hadn't realised that I last ate 36 hours ago,” Ren admitted. Hux pursed his lips, but said nothing- even if he was thinking along the lines of ‘ _This man can barely take care of himself and he’s my equal in rank_.’ He pushed his plate back.

“What did you mean when you mentioned my father?”

Ren blinked.

“The comment that had you throwing me out?” he asked. Hux nodded, and Ren twisted his mouth. 

“I’m not good at compliments, Hux. I saw files about how your father treated you, I _saw_ the nightmare you were having before our ship went down, and I was… trying to compliment you on how you overcame his misgivings and proved him wrong,” he said softly. 

Hux studied him for a bit, then something almost like relief flitted across his face, and he nodded, getting to his feet. 

“When's the last time you took a shower?”

Ren blinked at him, confused by the abrupt change of subject. 

“What?”

“You heard me. When was the last time you bathed? I like a hot shower after my meal- helps digestion- and your hair looks oily,” Hux said patiently. Ren frowned.

“What about what you were going to tell me?”

Hux made his way to his bedroom, and there was an unmistakable sway of his hips covering his limp. Ren’s eyes were immediately drawn to the motion, his mouth going dry.

“It'd be better if I showed you, really, and the best way to do that, is to prep for a shower. Are you coming or not?” He called over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner into the refresher. 

Ren got up, frustrated and curious all at once. In the 'fresher, Hux was shedding his shirt. He closed the lid on the toilet and sat down, shedding his boots. He looked up at Ren as he came into the room. 

“So... what is it you have to show me? That you’re really a machine under the uniform?” He joked, attempting levity. Hux actually laughed in response.

“If only, then I wouldn’t need half as many supplements and vices to get through the day, and I could accomplish far more work.”

Boots off, hand against the wall to steady himself, Hux waved off Ren's forward motion to help him. Using his free hand, he unbuckled his pants and let them drop to the floor, stepping out of them, then peeled off his briefs. Standing stark naked, Hux turned to face Ren. 

Ren blinked- mostly at the fact that Hux was now naked in front of him, but also at the mild confusion, because Hux naked was not what he'd imagined. The wide shoulders, the slender chest and arms, he'd seen. The soft belly didn't take him by surprise at all, given Hux's appetite and love for food. His hips were wider than he'd assumed, and-

“You have pierced nipples? Is that it?” Ren asked, confused as his eyes fell on silver barbells in Hux’s nipples. Hux snorted and motioned further down with a hand. Ren followed his gaze and blinked again.

“Oh. The fact that you’re trans?” Ren asked, and his tone was confused.

Hux nodded, his grey-green eyes searching Ren's face, looking for a hint of discomfort, of revulsion- anything negative. He was surprised and relieved to see only appreciation. 

“This doesn't bother you?”

“Should it?” Ren asked. “This doesn't change who you are, Hux. Nor does it change the fact that I still want you- my attraction to you had nothing to do with what parts you have. Besides- I already knew.”

Hux frowned. 

“You knew?”

Ren nodded.

“It’s known amongst your officers and some of the higher ranking troopers. You’re kind of an inspiration to other trans soldiers in the Order. I understand why you might have had apprehension about it, but I never really thought about it, because what you have between your legs doesn’t matter, what matters is being happy with yourself.”

He drew closer, and took Hux’s hand. 

“Either way, thank you, for trusting me, Hux.”

“You showed me your throat by admitting you want me, that you like me ordering you around, by revealing you like having me around to calm your mind. So, I showed you my throat and all that I am, but it seems it was a pointless exercise,” Hux said evenly as he turned to start the shower, hot water steaming from the dual showerheads. “Though, as of right now, you are wildly overdressed for a shower.”

Ren removed his clothing faster than he'd ever done before, then stood there, feeling awkward. What did he do now? As though sensing his doubts, Hux turned, and took Ren by the hand, pulling him into the shower. Hot water streamed over both of them, soaking their hair and sluicing over their bodies, which were so different once exposed. 

“It wasn’t pointless,” Ren insisted. “It’s still important.”

The corner of Hux’s mouth lifted ever so slightly.

“May I?” Hux asked, his hand reaching towards Ren's chest. Ren nodded, his mouth dry, and Hux ran long fingers- musician's fingers, came the errant thought- over Ren's muscular chest, skimming down over his abs. 

“You can touch me, too, Ren,” he murmured, fingertips tracing over the planes of his stomach. When Ren hesitated, his voice grew firmer. 

“Ren. Touch me.”

The command broke the wall that held him back. It was akin to water finding a crack and breaking the dam, and it had Ren reacting immediately, his fingers trailing down Hux's chest, along his clavicle and shoulders. He paused, fingertips brushing over the silver barbells, flicking them, and Hux sighed.

“Some wild teenage rebellion?”

“Something like that.”

Another pause.

“No scars?”

“I started hormone therapy when I was a child,” Hux said, hands slipping over Ren's narrow hips and back over his taught ass- oh, but Ren’s ass was a work of art made flesh. “I told my father I was a boy when I was four. He was all too happy to ‘pretend’ I was a boy, as he put it, because at least a bastard son is better than a bastard daughter.”

Hux’s tone was bitter, but his hands were gentle, if not insistent, and Ren bit his lip as those deft fingers dug into the muscle of his backside, then moved up to caress his back. 

“I told Grand Admiral Sloane once I knew I could trust her. She supported me completely. She started me on puberty blockers, and later, testosterone. I never developed breasts, and never needed the surgery.”

“It must have been nice, having someone that supported you like that,” Ren said, voice bitter and jealous. Hux pressed a kiss to the hollow of Ren's throat as he pushed closer under the spray of hot water. 

“We're not talking about our parents. We're learning about each other, and what we want, Kylo Ren,” Hux murmured. “Touch me.”

“I am,” Ren said, his hands running small circles over the small of Hux's back. 

“You're being chaste.”

“I don't know how to... and respect your personal boundaries, Hux,” Ren admitted. “I don't... Is there terms I should use or avoid?”

Hux chuckled, and ceased the exploration of the lines of Ren's hips as he took one of the Knight's hands in his own. Locking eyes with him, Hux pulled Ren's hand and slid it between his thighs. Of course, his dark red hair was perfectly groomed and trimmed, Ren realised as his fingers brushed against it. Hux pressed Ren’s fingers against his clit, which was becoming engorged, emerging from its hood. It was almost three inches long, almost as thick as Ren’s little finger, and it throbbed insistently as Hux guided his fingers over it.

“I call this my cock, because it very well behaves just like yours, save for ejaculation, and it's smaller,” Hux explained. He moved Ren's fingers down over his folds, then between them, pressing shaking fingertips into his wet heat. “And you can’t use ‘I can’t find it,’ as an excuse to neglect it.”

Ren actually laughed, and bit his lip as his fingers were swallowed by Hux’s greedy wet hole. 

“This is my cunt- yes, I call it that, and yes you can call it that as well,” Hux said, noticing the look of doubt on Ren's face. 

“And no, I don't mind being penetrated there. I prefer it, actually.”

“I was going to ask,” Ren said, sounding relieved. 

“Ask. I promise, considering your reaction to my gender, you will be far more considerate than others I have slept with,” Hux reassured him. 

Ren curled his fingers inside Hux, and the General stiffened with a moan. Ren pressed his mouth to Hux's ear. 

“Can I bathe you?”

“I was about to ask you the same,” came Hux's throaty reply. 

“Ask me? Or command me?”

Hux pressed his forehead to Ren's, their chests meeting, hips dangerously close. 

“Not this first time. I want us to learn about one another, our boundaries and limits as equals, because despite what our past interactions have led the ship and its crew to believe, I do respect you, Kylo Ren,” Hux said softly before kissing him. 

Ren moved his hands to encircle his arms around Hux's waist, pulling him in to deepen the kiss, biting gently at the General's lower lip. Hux sighed through his nose and threaded arms around the Knight's shoulders, grinding his hips against Ren's- and was delighted to find that his groin was pressing against a very engorged erection. 

Ren broke their kiss, and turned to the shelf- and blinked in dismayed confusion at the plethora of products there. Hux chuckled and handed him the body wash. 

“Use your hands.”

Ren wasted no time, lathering up his hands and running them over Hux's body, fingertips drinking in every wet, freckled inch. He slipped fingers around and over Hux's cock, between his folds, but kept his soaped up fingers out of his cunt- he knew that much, at least, that soap did not go in there. 

As Hux turned in the water, letting Ren rinse him off, he lathered up his own hands and started similar worship of Ren's body, lingering over the moles on his pale skin, flicking at nipples with fingertips, then teasing at his bellybutton. Finally- _finally_ \- his hands encircled his cock, cupped his balls, and massaged them, soaping them up and giving him a gentle scrub. 

A finger slid between the swollen head and the partially retracted foreskin, washing carefully, attentively, and Ren pressed his hips into the touch with a moan. 

“Good?”

Ren's reply was a grunt as Hux withdrew his hands and began rinsing him off. They kissed again, a tangle of lips, tongue and teeth, fingers in hair, or nails skimming over wet skin in Ren's case, slipping two digits into Hux's cunt and making curling motions as he sunk them in to the second knuckle. 

Hux gasped and clung to Ren, his good leg shaking at keeping most of the weight off his bad leg. Ren realised that this was likely too much stress on his leg, and he reached out, shutting the water off. 

“Bed?” He managed. Hux nodded, breathless, and without drying off, Ren scooped him up and carried him into the bedroom. For the first time, Hux had no complaints about being carried, using the opportunity to start suckling at one of Ren's nipples, flicking it with his tongue and listening to Ren groan. 

“....do you prefer being on top?” Ren asked as he stopped at the foot of Hux's bed. Hux snickered. 

“You know me too well- or you've been dwelling on that fantasy of mine.”

“I have,” Ren admitted as Hux nipped at his neck. “... I have a confession to make, though.”

Hux tilted his head. 

“What's that?”

“I... haven't done this before- never given the opportunity.”

“That's fine, Ren. That means I get to teach you what makes me feel good, and what I know feels good for you, and you learn right off the bat,” Hux said matter-of-factly, without the faintest hint of mockery or amusement at Ren's lack of experience- which made Ren feel all the more comfortable, and all the more in want of him. In fact, if Ren wasn’t mistaken, Hux sounded pleased- and there was definitely an excited, smug satisfaction rolling off him.

_That makes you completely and utterly **mine** , in that no one else has had you. Only me._

“Set me down and lay on your back. I'll straddle you,” Hux said. “Lights, 40%,” he instructed, and the lights dimmed.

Ren tried not to let his knees shake at Hux’s thought, and set him down gently on his feet, waiting until he saw Hux was stable before sprawling on his back as instructed. Hux moved over him, straddling his hips. 

“First things first...” he murmured, leaning over and reaching into the drawer of his nightstand. He pulled out a bottle of lube, and squeezed some of the contents into his fingers. Capping the bottle and tossing it aside, he began running the viscous fluid over Ren's cock. Ren moaned and watched as Hux artfully lubed him up. 

“There. No need to make this uncomfortable,” Hux said before moving his hips over Ren's and teasing the head of his cock with his wet folds, running his own cock over Ren's. Ren hissed and bucked his hips. 

“Hux...”

“Careful, Ren,” Hux murmured, reaching between his legs and spreading his folds before nudging his entrance against the head of Ren's cock. He wiggled, pushed a bit, then sank down a few inches before pulling up again. Ren tossed his head back into the pillows with a moan, and his hands clutched at Hux's hips. Hux, using his thighs to keep Ren from pulling him onto his length completely, made a few more up and down motions before finally taking all of Ren's length into him. He gave a full body shudder as he took his cock to the hilt, his ass pressing against Ren’s balls.

“Ren...” Hux moaned. “Stars, you're thick.”

Ren was too disoriented by the warm, wet friction of Hux's cunt around his cock to reply as the General began rocking on top of him. Long fingered hands rested on Ren's chest to support Hux's body as he moved his hips, making long, stroking motions, his spine flexing with the movement. Ren played with the barbells in Hux’s nipples, enjoying the moaning sighs Hux made as he did so.

“So... so warm and wet,” Ren managed. Hux leaned down and kissed him. 

“You have a thick cock, Ren. It feels amazing inside my cunt,” he purred. “Ren... touch _**my**_ cock. Take it between your fingers. Rub it, pull on it just a bit.”

Ren did as he was asked, rolling, rubbing and gently tugging on Hux's cock, running the pad of his thumb over the head in small circles. Hux groaned and bucked hard against Ren's hips. The reaction was incredibly arousing to Ren and he thrust upward into the General with renewed desire. 

“Fuck... Ren...” Hux panted, pressing harder onto him. “Don't stop that.”

“Don't stop what you're doing- Hux... I think I'm about to come...” Ren managed, cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

“Then come. It's okay,” Hux replied breathily. “It's your first time, it's okay.”

“Do I... do I pull out? I mean… you won’t-” 

Even in the middle of being ridden like a bantha, Ren wasn’t sure how wise it would be to finish the question of _‘You won’t get pregnant?’_ It was definitely something Hux would know how to deal with- surely. In any case, it would _definitely_ be a mood killer, and he was too close to fuck that up now.

“No. No need. Come inside me, Kylo Ren.” 

“Are you close?”

Hux leaned forward to kiss him, biting at his lower lip. 

“Keep jacking off my cock and keep thrusting with me,” he said, taking advantage of the coarse hair of Ren's groin against his sensitive folds adding to the sensation of Ren's hand on his cock and Ren's cock in his cunt. 

“Hux… going to- I….” 

“Come for me,” Hux crooned, his voice low and rough in his throat. “Come. Fill me up, Ren.”

Hux's alarm clock shuddered on the bedside table, the display flickering. Hux gave a squeeze with his kegels, and Ren jerked violently under him, his fingers curling away from Hux's cock as they clenched bloody crescents into his palms. His toes curled, his head snapped back, and the alarm clock shorted out and fell to floor as Ren lost control. A string of curses, Hux's name woven through them like a prayer, escaped his mouth as he spilled into him. 

“Hux.... fuck.”

“Cock, Ren...” Hux said quietly. “Almost there.” 

Able to focus again, Ren resumed his attention, and after a few seconds, Hux tensed. 

“Right there- right _there Ren,”_ Hux hissed as he changed the angle of his hips slightly, moving his hips as fast as he could before Ren's cock could go completely limp. Ren winced as Hux continued working his overstimulated flesh, but watching him do so was incredible. It was wildly intimate, seeing Hux naked, moving on top of him wildly and wantonly, uncontrolled, and unpolished. His hair was a mess, a fine sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glittered in the low light. 

Hux was utterly beautiful when he wasn’t orderly.

The head of Ren's cock hit just what he was looking for, and between the jolt that ran through him, and Ren's fingertips rubbing, rolling and flicking his own cock, Hux was shouting his own curses a few minutes later. He collapsed on top of Ren, shaking, his pulse pounding in his ears. Both men were covered in sweat, limbs tangled, their bodies still conjoined in a sticky wet mess. Hux, a man who loved cleanliness and order, didn't mind in the slightest. Ren, who was a creature of chaos, couldn't have been more content. The two men laid there quietly for a few minutes, before Ren guiltily looked over at the nightstand where the clock had once been.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, voice thick, hazy and sleepy with afterglow contentment. Hux mumbled dismissively.

“It isn't the first tech you've destroyed on the ship, and at least this time, you're not entirely to blame for it,” Hux teased, voice throaty as he folded his arms on top of Ren's chest, resting his chin on them to look into his face. 

Hooded, glittering eyes, flushed cheeks, swollen lips and sweat glistening on his forehead, Ren was gorgeous to Hux at that moment. All the more so, because he hadn't questioned, hadn't balked, and had respected him as the man he was. 

Ren lazily trailed undefined shapes over Hux's back, amused how each movement left trails of gooseflesh on the pale skin. He had never expected this to happen, and months ago, he would have thought it impossible, but now, he was glad it had happened, and was glad to have resolved some of the tension between them. However, he still felt... unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Physically, he was blown away. Mentally, however, he wanted more. 

“Good?” Hux murmured, his eyes heavily lidded, indulgent as the post-sex drowsiness started to hit him. 

“It was... But...”

Hux's eyes fully opened.

“But?”

“Next time? Please... command me? Bind me? I... I need that. I want it,” he said quietly. 

Hux tilted his head. 

“You want me to completely dominate you, don't you?”

Ren nodded, and Hux smiled. It was a tight, wolfish grin, predatory and hungry- and it had Ren's stomach fluttering in excitement. 

“Then next time, I will- but we need to talk limits, safe words, the like. You may want me to dominate you, but I want you to remember that you're still human, and safe with me, and I won't hurt you in ways you don't want me to, understand?” Hux inquired, pulling himself off of Ren at last. 

Ren nodded. 

“I do.”

“Good,” Hux replied. “Now. Come. Let's wash up.”

“ _Again_?” Ren asked in disbelief. Hux gave him a Look.

“If you think for an instant that I am going to bed with semen caked between my legs, only to give myself an itchy crotch for a week, you are mistaken, Ren. Now get in this shower and wash me.” 

Ren grinned, almost stupidly, as he got up and trailed after Hux into the 'fresher obediently. He didn’t understand Hux’s obsession with being so very, very clean, and he himself was tired of the increasing number of showers he’d been taking since meeting Hux- all for various reasons- but he’d take any excuse to have Hux’s slick wet body under his fingers again.

He had no idea how things were going to go between them now, at least outside of the bedroom, but so far, he was liking where it was going. A reprieve from the training, from the chaos of his mind, a way to let go, get stability, to give up and let someone else take control that _couldn't_ see into his head and find his weaknesses. Hux had a head start on him in these kinds of things- but at least he seemed to be willing to give him the chance to catch up. And with any luck, he'd be able to keep up. 

“So... do I need to leave after this?” Ren asked as Hux started up the shower again. Hux looked over his shoulder.

“If you want... but I wouldn't object to you staying,” he said softly, pulling Ren back into the hot water. Ren dipped his head and placed a bruising kiss to Hux's neck, leaving a new mark against pale freckled skin.

“I will,” he replied against the soft skin. He was still for a moment.

“Did I do well? For you?”

Hux was starting to understand. Ren wanted someone to take control for him, to hold the reins, allow him to let go, and he wanted to be reassured he did well, that he behaved admirably. He wanted reassurance and security. What sort of life, or training, had done this to someone so powerful?

He understood it all too well, but his desire came from the helplessness of a scared, abused child told they’d never be worth anything, never achieve anything, never be worthy of anyone. He desired success, power- and the devotion of another, love be damned, he just wanted loyalty- because he’d been told he’d never have it. 

Did Ren want someone to tell him he was good, that he’d done well, because he was constantly being told he wasn’t? That he was a failure, or that he’d never measure up? Or did he grow up thinking he’d ever be coming up short, and he wanted someone to take control, have him blindly follow orders that bound him to someone who would take care of him, and tell him he was good?

 _When you grow up in the shadow of a princess, a war hero, a Jedi, and the Chosen One, you know you will never be enough,_ Ren said quietly in his mind, and Hux didn’t object or protest him reading his thoughts this time. He kept their quiet admission between them, safe in the confines of his mind. 

_But you know that in your own way- knowing no matter what you do, you’ll never be good enough, never meet the insurmountable expectations set for you because of the blood in your veins and your incidence of birth._

_You, born of the blood of heroes, and me, the bastard of a kitchen maid with the audacity to not even be born with the right parts. Yes, I know, Kylo. But… did they not love you?_ His words were gentle, not mocking or condescending. His tone was tender, curious. 

_…She did. But does Sloane not love you?_ Ren’s tone had the same weight, the same exploratory feel to his words. 

_She does. With all her heart. She … is my mother. I love her, more than anything._

_But it’s still not enough, is it? It would have meant so much more to have **him** acknowledge you, appreciate you- or stick around long enough to be with you instead of gallivanting about the galaxy while you’re struggling to find your place in so many shadows, or a path amongst so many footsteps you’re expected to follow. _

Hux was quiet, and there was a pain in his heart that he had once suppressed, but damn Kylo Ren, he and his words had opened that old wound, and now it lie exposed and bleeding again. 

_It will never be enough. Just like I would never be enough,_ he finally said. 

Ren was silent, pressing his forehead to Hux’s, as if trying to physically press himself into the safety, the sanctuary of Hux’s mind. 

_It’s a hole that can’t be filled, but the more you put into it, the greater the poison as what you put into festers, and you can’t fix it, can’t cleanse it. All you can do is look for something to make the pain easier to bear, even if only for a little while,_ he said, and clutched Hux close, pressing his face into his pale, freckled neck.

“You were good enough. More than good enough for me, pet. You did so well,” Hux said softly, stroking Ren’s hair. “You did remarkably well, and I’m very pleased with your performance, with you, Kylo Ren.”

Ren shuddered, and the last vestiges of tension finally left his taut body. When they finally tucked into bed, Ren nearly passed out almost immediately as he curled behind Hux, nestling into him. Hux's shampoo smelled of sage, his body wash of amber and black current. A relaxing, and calming scent- though Hux told him he had a completely different shampoo for the morning to wake him up, which only had Ren blinking owlishly because _who needed that many kinds of soap?_ Still, between his afterglow, the warm shower, the praise lavished on him, Hux's body curled against him, and the soft bed, he was asleep in minutes.

“Thank you,” Hux said softly into the darkness as he cuddled closer, enjoying Ren's arms around him. His reply was a sleepy, throaty hum. 

Hux closed his eyes, and soon was asleep as well, lulled by Ren's heartbeat against his back, and his warmth encompassing him.

Both men slept better that night than they had in years. 


	12. Assassinations and Assertions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux and Kylo have weird dreams. Kylo has the mother of all migraines and Hux discovers he can't resist caring for him when he's sick. Hux throws a fancy shindig and of course someone tries to shoot him, and of course Kylo goes absolutely feral.

He was alone, as far as he could see, but from what he could sense, could hear, Armitage Hux knew he was surrounded. Eyes stared down at him from lofty heights in the shadows, their gazes piercing his naked skin. Every freckle, every scar, every minute imperfect, all laid bare before the invisible multitude that scrutinised him. 

_He could almost pass for his father._

_Almost. He's too thin. Too narrow._

_Has his mother's hands._

_That's not all of his mother he has._

_Hard to tell whose spine holds him so rigidly._

_Why doesn't he speak?_

_He still hasn't opened his eyes._

_Is he conscious?_

_Oh, he is._

He felt hands touch his cheeks, fingers brush over his lips. Something soft, but heavy, was rested on his head. The scent of blood and flowers, a sickly sweet mix that mirrored the stench of decay, rushed over his nose. He didn't need to open his eyes to know that the flowers were as red as those on the holo his father had so cruelly shown him. The same flowers he’d left in front of his father’s bacta tank before he’d left him to die. Their weight was heavier than any burden of rank he'd ever attained. 

A single light came on, flooding the darkness. Hux finally opened his eyes, seeing his shadow stretch impossibly far as the light flooded the massive chamber behind him. At the end of the chamber, a figure, barely illuminated, stood stiffly, expectantly. Hux finally reacted- a sharp intake of breath, the slightest increase of heart rate, the widening of grey-green eyes. 

He'd know that figure anywhere. Pressed uniform, neatly trimmed red beard that shone, bright grey eyes glittering, arms folded behind him as he stood in parade rest, Brendol Hux stood there, with the slightest of approving smiles- for him. His son. His legacy. 

Finding himself clothed in an all too familiar uniform, a cadet's badge on his chest, Hux lifted his hand towards the figure. His muscles flexed, coiled, readied themselves to move, when the sound of a boot heel clicking on the floor behind him had his body freezing in place once more. He glanced over his shoulder, hesitating. 

He knew this figure more than he wanted to admit- and would never forget it, despite his protestations that said otherwise. 

Ren stood there silently, his tattered cloak rustling in an unseen breeze, and the stone floor turned to snow under his feet. Behind and around him, the chamber had turned to a snow covered forest that whispered and rustled with quiet unrest. His mask was gone, his hood thrown back. His lightsaber was drawn, crackling, sputtering and flickering like a dying flame. 

His face was nearly unrecognisable, a mess of cauterised flesh, blood and a broken nose, a rapidly blooming black eye and a torn lower lip. The snow steamed slightly as blood dripped steadily from a wound in his side that looked like raw ground meat- bright red against the black of his armour. His expression was pained, plaintive. 

Hux turned, and his cadet's uniform was gone, replaced with the heavy greatcoat, his black General's trappings. He winced as he felt his lip split, felt heat on the side of his face. In the distance, between the trees, Hux could see a glowing orange light that struck panic in his gut. The ground shook, and Ren fell to his knees, lightsaber going out. 

“Armitage...”

Hux hesitated. He glanced behind him, and to his horror, saw his father reaching out for him, no longer on the ground, but floating in a bacta tank. His face was a mess of swollen, nearly transparent flesh, his outstretched hand with fingers fat as sausages, the fingernails popping off. His already robust body was straining the buttons of his uniform as each part of him became more bloated.

“...Son.”

Hux froze, torn between the two, watching as each man to either side of him slowly bled out onto the white- snow under Ren's knees, medical flooring and bacta under Brendol’s. Reality dawned on Hux, and his face twisted in anger- Brendol Hux had never cared for him, never seen him as his legacy, and the only smiles he ever showed for Armitage were that of cruelty when his comrades mocked him, or when his meaty hands left marks on his skin to show him how the monstrous man really felt about him. 

“You have no right to call me son,” Hux whispered, his tone going harsh as the shock of the simple word faded from him. Brendol reached out imploringly. 

Ren fell onto his back, a wet, choking sound erupting from his throat. Hux whipped his head around towards the fallen Knight. Panic rose in his chest, and he took a heavy, weighted step towards Ren. Behind him, his father whispered his name. Hux didn't look back. 

“You’re already gone, and I saw to that. You won’t haunt me any longer.”

He took another sluggish step towards Ren, then another. Each step he took grew lighter, easier, and he felt the weight of his uniform change, become easier to bear- but the cold cut into him increasingly as it did so. He paid it no mind as he finally was able to run to Ren's side, kneeling beside him in the snow. 

“Ren… Kylo.”

“You... chose me,” the younger man managed in disbelief. Hux gnawed at his split lip. 

“I lost him years ago- he lost ME when he abused me, and I gave him the send off he deserved. How could I save such a wretched creature...and I still need you alive, Ren.”

Ren reached up with a bloody hand and trailed fingertips over Hux’s cheek. His hand pulled back, coming away bloody, and Hux felt the pain as the skin over his cheekbone split open, blood running down his face. 

“You will need me for a great deal in the future, Armitage Hux,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly very calm, and very deadly, brown eyes burning into Hux's. 

_Traitor._

The word was a guttural hiss, the speaker unidentifiable, disembodied, and surrounded Hux like a mist, ringing, hanging in his ears like the reverberations of a bell. Hux wildly scanned the woods for the source, but found nothing- and likewise, found nothing in his arms, Ren having faded completely. 

There was the sound of a blaster going off, and Hux found himself sprawled on the ground, no longer on snow or flower petals, the odd chamber-yet-forest gone, replaced by the polished deck of a battlecruiser he didn’t know. He no longer wore the uniform of a General- he wore the trappings of a _smuggler._ Around him, voices hissed, screamed, and his world was a violent explosion of red light and blood, his ears filled with the sounds of the furious, confused and disbelieving dead and dying. 

Above it all, a voice he could almost recognise whispered: 

_You can change things. You still have that chance._

Another voice, cold, detached:

_Tell the Supreme Leader we’ve found our spy._

_——_

Hux sat up with a start, the taste of copper and salt in his mouth. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat glistening on his skin. His room was dark, and empty. He frowned, disoriented, then realised that Ren _had_ been in his bed, his room. 

_Had_ being the operative word, Hux mused as he got out of bed and poked around his quarters. The Knight was nowhere to be seen, and his clothes were no longer in the refresher. The trays that had once held their dinner were gone, and further prodding revealed that Ren had tucked the bottle of wine into his cooler. 

Hux almost found himself wishing Ren had still been there. His dream was crawling through his mind like an unwanted visitor, and he wondered if he should tell Ren about it. 

“No. I think not,” he said aloud to avoid thinking it loudly enough for Ren to hear, since it seemed he was incapable of thinking to where the Knight couldn't hear him. He snorted. Oh, the irony. He called Ren mad for having such faith in the Force, yet the man had him talking to himself because of it. 

He dressed, made his bed- and tried to ignore the fact that the sheets still smelled of the night before- then headed to the bridge for the day's work. 

All day, he tried, rather futilely, to ignore the fact that he could feel Ren's seed slowly leaking out of him, soaking his briefs. When he finally retired for the evening, he was so aroused, he didn't even bother changing out of his uniform before pleasuring himself to the point of collapse- all the while thinking of how Ren had bucked and writhed under him, how his cock had filled and twitched inside him. 

Still, nothing from Ren. No thoughts, no visit, not even the prying eyes that he so often felt. It was then that Hux surmised that Ren was not on the _Finalizer_. The thought had his stomach in knots for various reasons. Had he left because he couldn't stand what he'd done with him? Did he just need to clear his head? Or- his heart raced, his face becoming deathly pale- did Snoke know?

Hux didn't eat much of his dinner that night, his shower was quick, and sleep only came when extra melatonin was administered. Thankfully, his sleep was dreamless that evening. 

Hux didn't see Ren again for nearly two months. By the time Ren returned, the base's main infrastructure was ready for occupation, and the core had already been tapped, the containment field oscillators well under way. There will still some various flaws in the overall base’s construction, but when Hux had brought them up- security breaches, possible oversights- Snoke had dismissed them, stating the base itself was too vast and the time drawing too close for the General to continue to scour over the tiniest details. Hux found his mouth twisting when he got these dismissals via messages, his gut twisting. 

Powerful did not mean infalliable, and this whole situation reeked of a repeat of the Death Star on a much larger, far more expensive scale. Doubts about the whole thing were starting to creep into his mind- even if there was an incredible thrill at commanding so much power, to hold the lives of entire systems in his grasp. It wouldn’t mean anything if a small flaw meant its downfall. 

Hux finally saw Ren again in the new chamber that had been excavated and outfitted for proper meetings with the Supreme Leader- in an actual meeting. Hux had steeled his thoughts, drowned himself in reports, and shoved his dream and all thoughts of Ren aside as he entered the cavernous chamber. 

Ren was already there, rising to his feet silently as Hux approached. He didn't even acknowledge Hux's presence as Snoke focused those unsettling cobalt eyes on the General. Hux bowed smoothly. He'd left his greatcoat outside the chamber on a hook out to appear respectful of the Supreme Leader, but he’d truly done so that he could force himself to bow without the heavy garment falling to the floor gracelessly. 

“Supreme Leader,” he said humbly, waiting for the dismissive sound to rise. 

“You have done well, General,” Snoke said in that calm, deep and ragged voice of his. “Construction is moving faster than predicted. We will soon have the Starkiller operational nearly six months ahead of schedule if your men are to be believed.”

Hux inclined his head again.

“Yes, Supreme Leader. Once we have completed the oscillators, it will be almost child's play to finish the rest. The planet has had many natural resources which have aided our work beyond prediction of production rates we had initially laid out. Resources which have not yet been depleted.”

“Good,” Snoke said, clearly pleased. “Then the move shall commence.”

Hux blinked. 

“Forgive me, Supreme Leader, but... move?”

“You will be transferring to the base, effective immediately. Kylo Ren shall be given command of the _Finalizer_ ,” Snoke clarified. 

Ren was still silent, and utterly still- Hux almost forgot he was there. Just as well, as Hux was shocked with the news. Moved from his ship? Off the _Finalizer_? And for what? 

Seeing the expression of confused dismay escaping Hux’s usual composed mask, Snoke waved dismissively. 

“You will be given command of the entire base, General. Fear not, I still have many uses left for your strategic mind.”

A final dismissal.

“Now go, and inform Captain Phasma to move the ground forces into their new barracks, effectively immediately, with the rotating schedule as planned.”

Hux bowed one last time, then turned smartly and left the chamber. Behind him, Ren was still a silent, unmoving shadow. Hux had the feeling that training had to do with his absence now, and that it was going to be discussed without him there. It was still sinking in- command of the entire planet. A planet that, once construction was complete, would be mobile. 

He didn't know how to feel about it. The _Finalizer_ had become like his home, and Star Destroyers was all he really remembered since he was a child. It would take some getting used to, sleeping without the thrum of the engines, the steady environment of the massive starship around him. ...and Ren was taking control of it.

Did that mean he wouldn't be seeing much of Ren? Would Ren be taking the ship to various places? 

So many questions. Hux wondered if Ren would be able, or willing to answer any of them- assuming Ren even wanted to see him again. The Knight had seemed... unsatisfied, unfulfilled, and had disappeared that night, likely long before Hux had even begun to wake up. Hux had no regrets- he wasn't about to break a virgin in with rough domination, despite what said virgin claimed to want. 

_Even a Knight of Ren needs to understand boundaries, consent and comfort zones,_ Hux thought to himself, scowling as he grabbed his greatcoat off the hook and slipped it over his shoulders. He didn't have time to dwell on it now, in any case. He had work to do- like getting his things moved to his new quarters. He hailed Phasma, sending her the orders, and sent a request to have his effects brought down to the surface. 

A squadron of troopers coming in with fresh kills from the forests loaded on transport had him remembering that he hadn't eaten at all since the night before, and he made a note to order something while he worked on his requisitions. Hux cast one last glance at the chamber door behind him before heading to his chambers to oversee the relocation of his effects.

He would have to wait for Ren to come to him- if he did at all. 

——

Hux paused, spoon halfway to his mouth as he glanced over information from some of politicians. Chatter was increasing about the upcoming gala, and the Senators were having difficulty speaking of anything else. Hux only hoped that his agents could keep things under wraps, lest things get out to the Resistance or the Republic about it. His security at the event should suffice, he reassured himself. Especially with Ren and Phasma there.

He was still a nervous wreck over it, despite himself. The dream he'd had months ago was still plucking at the strings of his mind, making his anxiety worse. He hadn't dreamt of his father in years- why would he now? He also couldn’t get the last words out of head.

_We’ve found our spy._

He shoved the spoon in his mouth, barely tasting the stew he was wolfing down- a waste, really, the meat was tender and the tubers were soft and rich, the gravy thick and spiced well. No, it hadn't been just his father, though. His family, his teachers, friends of the family, they'd all been judging his naked form, his mother, his _biological_ mother- he knew it was her, despite seeing no face- placing the flowers on his head. And then Ren.... and the words he couldn’t get out of his mind.

_We’ve found our spy._

A knock on the door broke his train of thought. 

“Enter,” he answered carelessly, shoving another spoonful in his mouth before pushing his bowl away to receive the visitor. 

The door opened, and Ren lingered, his posture that of someone who was about to fall over. Hux lifted a brow at the masked figure, but waved him in. Ren came inside- and locked the door behind him. 

“Hux,” he began, but was cut off.

“Ren, I really don't want to fight with you, and I can tell you're not here to be social because you're wearing that damned mask,” Hux said indifferently, pulling his bowl back towards him, spooning up some more stew as he picked up his datapad again. 

Ren took off his mask, and Hux blinked to see that Ren looked _awful._ His face was gaunt, eyes dark with bags under them, his skin paler than ever, and his hair looked- there was no other term for it but disgusting, in how it was stringy, lank and hung around his face. It looked as though Ren had just gotten back from two solid weeks without sleep, food or a bath. As he approached, Hux could see his knees shaking slightly. 

“What in the void do you _do_ when you go out for those long spells, Ren?” Hux asked quietly, alarmed, and actually worried. Ren shook his head.

“No talk, just... can I sit by you? Just a bit?” he asked as he came around the corner of Hux's desk. Hux covered his mouth with his napkin,as he caught the scent of ozone, blood, sweat, dirt and raw metal hanging around Ren. 

“You need a _bath_ , Ren, a bath, food and sleep, not a spell of sitting by me,” he managed, pushing his almost empty bowl away for good this time, appetite gone. At least he'd eaten most of it before Ren had spoiled his hunger. 

“Head,” Ren managed. 

“And some self care will all help with that, Ren. Go to your quarters, I'll have someone bring you food while you bathe,” Hux insisted, wishing Ren would just go, he smelled _awful._ Like death. 

“Before. Your thoughts. Help chaos....Please?” Ren begged, his speech halting, and beginning to slur as he plopped to the floor next to Hux's chair in a tangle of cloth and limbs. His limbs suddenly looked too long for his body, given how pale and gaunt he looked. Hux could see the vein throbbing in his forehead. Also, to his growing alarm, he noticed the muscles of the right side of his face starting to go slack, the eyelid, the corner of his mouth starting to droop. 

“Ren,” he snapped, getting out of his chair and kneeling beside him, ignoring how dirty he was and taking the Knight's face in his hands. 

“Ren, look at me. Can you tell me where you are?”

Ren focused one good eye on him.

“Ssshhtarkiller Baaasshe,” he slurred. Hux swore. Another hemiplegic migraine. Hopefully, anyway. This one was worse than the last, and he couldn’t assume it was the same, and not a stroke. He couldn’t afford to.

“Can you move your hand?” He asked, picking up Ren's right hand. “Come on. Hold it up for me.”

He let go, and the hand immediately dropped back to Ren's side. Hux sat on the floor beside Ren, cupping his face in his hands. Ren winced as Hux tilted his head up, shying away from the light with a hiss about lines and sparks. Hux sighed mildly in relief- hemiplegic migraine, then, not a stroke. He got up, pulling ice from his glass and wrapping it in his napkin, clean side out. 

“Come here, Ren,” he said softly, not expecting a reply as he sat back down in his chair and gently pulling Ren close by the shoulder, he ran the icy cloth over Ren's forehead and temples in small circles. 

Ren shuddered, eyes closing, and Hux purposely went back to thinking about the work he'd be attending to earlier. Ren had said his orderly thoughts helped him sort through the chaos of his own mind, so Hux obliged by going back to work. Ren made a rather pathetic sound, and he attempted to move into Hux's lap. Hux curled his lip in mild disgust, pushing Ren down. It was like dealing with a sick, oversized Kath hound that didn’t realise it was too big to be a lapdog- and was in dire need of a bath. 

“No,” he said firmly, feeling like he was talking to a wild animal. However, he let Ren fold his arms over his lap. Ren sighed, and rested his cheek on his arms, using Hux's thighs as a pillow as he leaned heavily against his chair. 

“What the void is he having you do?” Hux murmured, still running small circles over Ren's temples and forehead with the makeshift icepack as he went back to his work. Ren's reply was a low throaty sound that was broken into multiple churring bits as his neck muscles didn't fully cooperate. Otherwise, his eyes stayed closed, and he continued leaning into the cold cloth. 

“If your hair wasn't so filthy, I'd run my fingers through it, but it's disgusting, Ren. You're like a dirty vornskr that got his paw caught in a thorn bush, begging for soothing skritches from his master,” Hux sighed after a long silence. 

Ren made no reply, his breathing becoming deeper, slower. Hux peered down and saw his eyes were still shut, his mouth partly open, his arms limp. He'd fallen asleep in Hux's lap. Hux's expression softened, and he trailed fingers over Ren's neck, thinking about his comment about Ren being a vornskr. 

“You really are, though, aren't you?” He murmured. “A vornskr dealing with having his tail cut off and trying not to succumb to domestication.”

Hux eyed the datapads on his desk. He didn't want to wake Ren up, not now that the man was finally getting rest when he desperately needed it- he also didn't want to move him so soon after a hemiplegic migraine. He might as well finish his work while Ren was out cold. Against his better judgement, Hux slipped on his gloves, then ran leatherbound fingers through Ren's sweaty, unwashed hair. Ren made a soft sound in his throat, leaning into the touch. 

“You’re a wild vornskr, Ren,” Hux murmured, running fingers through the dozing Knight’s hair, fingertips scraping gently over his scalp.

"Eventually, I will tame you, and call you Kylo.”

Ren made no reply, out cold, and with a small smile, Hux went back to his work.

He groaned a minute later as he realised Ren had started drooling on his thigh.

———

Ren came to, sprawled on his back in snow, new flakes falling on his face and settling in his hair. He sat up and pain shot through his side, his stomach, and his face burned. He touched the affected areas, and found a gaping wound in his side, a cauterised hole in his gut, and his face was slashed open. Blood pooled under his side, steaming in the cold air. 

“You’re awake!”

Ren looked towards the sound of the voice, and saw a small figure standing at the edge of the forest that he only now registered as being his surroundings. The figure was young, lean of build, almost malnourished looking, and had glittering grey green eyes with red hair. They wore a grey green uniform that hung loosely on their skinny frame. A cadet’s uniform.

“Where am I?” Ren managed. 

“You’re _here,”_ the child said- for yes, they were a child. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“We?”

Another child emerged from the trees- indeterminate gender, like the other, with brown eyes and black hair. They wore tan robes, simple, loose. Padawan robes.

“We were hoping you’d come. It gets harder and harder to see you,” the second child said. “You keep pushing me away.”

Ren stared at the children, and realised he was looking at himself- and Hux. He knew he ignored the boy he’d been, and that the choices he’d made, the depersonalisation of his former identity had caused a splitting of himself, but seeing it in actuality…

“You’re not a part of me- either of you.”

The robed boy- Ben Solo- smiled sadly. The uniformed boy- Armitage Hux- just glared. 

“You should have thought of that before intruding,” young Armitage said. “With your prying and your hooked tendrils, you pulled me in. You took part of me from myself into _yourself._ I didn’t ask for this, you pulled me in.”

“You’ll never be rid of me, Kylo Ren,” Ben Solo added. “I _am_ you.”

“What do you want?” Ren snapped. 

“To remember,” Ben said softly.

“To be on your guard,” Armitage put in. 

“Things are in motion, things you can’t change, and you will need us. Both of us- both of you.”

“Both of me?” Ren echoed. Armitage pointed up in a general direction.

“You and him- me. Us.”

“There is no _us,_ ” Ren snarled. “I don’t need him, I don’t need _you_.”

“You’ll have reason to, and reason to care, and every reason to change unless you listen, be careful, and _trust._ ”

“Trust? Trust who?” Ren asked, realising with a shudder the two boys had spoken in unison. 

“Yourself. If you can remember which part of you to listen to.”

“I know who I am!” Ren roared, getting to his feet and igniting his lightsaber. “I am Kylo Ren, and I trust _no one!”_

“No one?” Echoed Ben Solo. 

“ _No one,”_ Ren repeated, his words a snarl as the trees lit up in the background with red and orange, and the smell of fire, of ruin and destruction flooded his nostrils. 

“Remember that when your loyalty is called into question, Kylo Ren,” Armitage said coldly. “Or you’ll lose everything.”

The young boys visibly _glitched_ , like a broken holo, and then they were each other, then not, then both- their features shared between them. Ben’s eyes and mouth, set in Armitage’s face, with black hair. Armitage’s sharp eyes and cruel mouth, set in Ben’s long emotive face and fiery red hair. 

“You’ll lose _us,_ ” the two said, their voices alien, different, but somehow familiar to the point that Ren’s heart ached in ways he couldn’t describe.

“Trust, be loyal, or lose everything.”

———

Ren awoke with a start, drenched in a cold sweat that, at first, he thought was the snow that had been falling on him. Disoriented, he looked around the room, not recognising it. The room was sparsely furnished, but what furnishings there were, were all expensive and elegant, all in shades of black and silver. The bed he rested on was familiar- this was Hux's bed. He remembered the sheets, the obscene and unnecessary number of pillows. 

The sound of a telltale beeping from the other room had his attention, and carefully, he swung his feet out of bed and stood. Mildly dizzy, he gave himself a moment to let his equilibrium regain its centre, then headed out into the next room. Hux looked up at him from his terminal, blinking, then got up and headed towards him.

“Feeling better?”

“What happened?” Ren asked, frowning. He didn't remember anything, save for coming to Hux's door, asking to sit there, and then... black. He scowled as Hux prodded at his face, and he swatted the hand away.

“What are you-”

“You had a hemiplegic migraine,” Hux replied, moving away to his caff maker to pour another cup once he was satisfied that Ren was all right.

“You sat beside my chair, rested your head in my lap while I rubbed your temples with ice, and you passed out- you also drooled all over my thigh, thank you for that. You suffered hemiplegia and aphasia. Once I was done with my work, I dragged you into the refresher, bathed you, treated your wounds, and tucked you into my bed. You may want to wash yourself in another shower, however, I simply scrubbed your torso and limbs- I left everything below your hips alone since you were unconscious.”

Ren blinked, noticing the bandages on his arms and shoulders for the first time- small bacta patches, carefully placed over the cuts and bruises he'd sustained during his training. He ran fingers over them, frowning.

“Why?”

Hux blinked at him over the rim of his mug- which, to Ren's annoyed amusement, was simply black with the stripes of his rank wrapped around it. 

“Why what?”

“Why did you... you let me stay. You were respectful of me being unconscious. You put me in your bed. Are you in love with me, Hux?” Ren was serious, but couldn't help but sneer. He was cornered, vulnerable, and his natural reaction was to lash out, to snap and bite. 

Hux set his mug down on his desk, and approached Ren, putting hands on his shoulders and pushing him backwards until his back hit the wall. His steely eyes never left Ren's, and he crushed a bruising kiss against his mouth, fingers digging into shoulders. Ren could taste his caff, the tingle of nicotine, the herbal bite of his cigarra, the flavour of smoke on his lips and tongue before Hux broke it off. 

“I don't love you. I'm not foolish enough to waste time on love, Kylo Ren,” he murmured, their mouths a breath apart. “I simply want to own you, command you, bend you, make you mine.”

“Then why are you so tender with me? That's not what I want, what I came to you for, and you know it,” Ren hissed.

Hux bit his bottom lip, moving one hand from a shoulder to painfully dig his thumb into the dip of his clavicle, the other slipping into tangled hair and pulling hard making Ren tilt his head back. Ren moaned in spite of himself, fingers gripping into the fabric of Hux's black tank. 

“Trust,” Hux said simply. “You can't just dominate, hurt, own someone without trust. I won't break, won't dominate someone without consent, without boundaries and clear lines I know not to cross. I need trust between us, and loyalty from you.”

_Trust, be loyal, or lose everything._

Ren swatted away the remnants of the dream as Hux pulled back, staring right into Ren's face.

“Aftercare is important. Physical and mental care are as important as consent, trust and respect, Ren. I know your limits are higher than that of a mortal man, but you're inexperienced, and you're wild. Domestication, domination, breaking in, those things take time and education. Do you think that I was being soft? I was testing your willingness, your desire to obey, and you do, you want to obey me- but now I need to know where your lines are.”

Ren blinked.

“When?”

“When I told you to bathe with me. When I told you to touch me. When you set me down, and laid on your back as I told you to. When you followed me back into the shower. Gentle orders, commands, but you followed them.”

Ren considered, remembering. Hux was right- his instructions, his commands, they'd been gentle, enough to come across as requests, but he'd followed them with only minimal questioning at most, if at all. Hux simply lifted a brow, daring Ren to deny it. Ren let his head fall back against the wall with a resigned sigh. 

“That's why you left, isn't it?” Hux asked quietly. “You thought I was too soft for your needs- when you don't even know what you really want. Not yet.”

Ren nodded slightly. Hux took his chin in a gloved hand and made Ren look at him. 

“That is why I didn't command you. I want to dominate you, but I won't take advantage of your inexperience, just as I didn't take advantage of you being unconscious last night.” 

Hux pushed his head back and bit at his neck, leaving a mark. 

“But I want you, Ren. Not just in my bed. I want you under my heel, I want you calling me Sir, Master. I want to bend, to break you. I want to leave bruises on your skin for every inch of damage you do to my ship, my base,” he murmured, laving his tongue over the red mark his teeth had left. 

“My ship,” Ren corrected him. Hux's eyes flashed.

“I'm sorry, but I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you say _your_ ship?” He asked, thumb digging harder into the soft spot between clavicle and neck. Ren gasped a bit. 

“Your ship, General,” he corrected himself, overwhelmed with how _good_ a single phrase, how _submitting_ made him feel. 

“Good boy,” Hux purred, and he lifted his thumb, pressing his mouth to the sore spot, kissing it tenderly. “Good boy, Kylo Ren.”

Ren couldn't stop the blood from rushing to his loins, to his cheeks, as Hux lavished praise on him, the words _good boy_ like sweetest music in his ears. 

“Tell me why you want this, Ren,” Hux murmured. “You're strong, powerful, and could easily bend others to your will. Why do you ache so fiercely to be broken instead?”

Ren was quiet at first, enjoying the feel of Hux's mouth biting and kissing at his neck as he considered his answer. 

“Every day is about control,” he finally said. “Controlling my reception of thoughts around me, the Force constantly a part of my life, having to judge, weigh and think about how I respond and act for the Supreme Leader. Even using my lightsaber requires control, or it will shatter. It's all a constant act of control, inside and out, and I never know if I’m doing well, if I’m good enough. All I know is that I have to keep doing what I do. I just...”

He sagged as Hux ran a hand over his cheek, closing his eyes and enjoying the cool leather against his skin. 

_I just want to let go and let someone else take the reins. I want someone to tell me I did well for letting go._

Hux kissed him again, biting harder, drawing blood, and Ren moaned into Hux's mouth. 

“Say you're mine, then,” Hux growled, shoving a leg between Ren's knees, pressing his thigh against the Knight's groin. “Give yourself to me, Kylo Ren.” 

“I'm yours,” Ren gasped, fingers clutching tighter into Hux's shirt. 

“Good boy. _My_ good boy,” Hux replied, eyes glittering, and he kissed Ren again hungrily, tangling fingers into his hair, nails scraping over his scalp as he ground his hips against Ren's. Ren moaned, clutching Hux to him, his cock throbbing in his pants. He wanted Hux, needed him.

And Hux pulled away. 

“Go bathe.”

Ren blinked, hands still grasping at empty air where Hux had been, his lips still wet from Hux's ravenous kiss. Confused, he opened his mouth to protest, when Hux glowered at him, and pointed sternly to the refresher.

“Shower. Now.”

The sheer weight of command in his voice compelled Ren, and he slunk into the refresher without hesitation- feeling all the more aroused at Hux's tone. Hux swatted his rump as he passed, a smirk curling his mouth. 

“Good boy. Get as clean as you can- the gala is tonight, and if you're good, I'll have you screaming my name well into the early hours of the morning,” he said in a low voice. “And do go ahead and relieve yourself- it will help you last longer later.” 

“Are you going to join me?” Ren asked hopefully as he slid out of his pants. Hux snorted. 

“I have contacts to get in touch with, squadrons to command, things to prepare, and I bathed this morning. Clean yourself up, Ren, I will have your new armour brought in shortly, and you can dress me once it's time,” Hux replied as he sat back down at his terminal. 

Ren hesitated, and Hux looked up at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Go. Bathe. Now.”

Ren ducked into the shower as he was told, and Hux smiled smoothly, crossing his legs as he went back to work. Carise was bothering him about the gala, wanting him to escort her. Sloane was still disappointed that Hux had told her not to come, but something told him it wasn't the best idea. He believed she would be safer continuing her work with the Ascendancy. Something told him the evening would be horrible for them both if she did, so he had invited Carise in her place. Not that he was thrilled with the overbearing, busybody of a deposed noble being there to try to leech off his success as a General, but someone had to represent Arkanis that evening, given that the current rep had not been invited, as they were not a Centrist.

He was still on edge- something was nagging him, pulling at the corner of his mind, the bottom of his gut. He couldn't place it, though the dream he'd had was a factor, but not the cause. Something about tonight was... wrong. He couldn't call it off, however. There was no backing out of it. 

_I'll be with you,_ came Ren's thought from the shower, oddly soothing in the cold nervousness of Hux's current train of thought. _I won't let anything happen to you._

 _Phasma will be there, too,_ Hux replied in agreement. _She's taking Captain Aervon._

 _Aervon? The Special Forces squadron leader?_ Ren sounded surprised. 

_The same. Quite the pilot and even more impressive is her military record. She advanced quite quickly through the ranks for someone her age. Hardly a wonder that Phasma took a shine to her._

Ren simply grunted in Hux's head, and the two went back to their respective activities. Minutes later, Ren padded out of the shower, one of Hux's towels wrapped around his hips. He looked at Hux quizzically, and the General lifted a brow.

“Yes?”

“What should I wear until you have me dressed for this... event?”

“Nothing.”

Eyes widened.

“Nothing?”

Hux stood and made his way over to Ren, putting hands to his chest and pushing him backwards. The back of Ren's legs hit the bed, and he sprawled backwards onto it.

“Nothing,” Hux repeated, moving onto the bed behind Ren- and to the younger man's horror, Hux had a comb in his hand. Had he pulled that out of his sleeve? It wouldn't surprise him if he had, given Hux's near constant state of perfection with his own personal grooming. 

“I am combing this hair, Kylo Ren, because mask or not, you are not going to this event with a rat's nest on your head,” he said firmly, sitting behind him. Ren groaned as Hux began attacking his hair with comb and fingers. Hux sighed at the mess that was Ren’s hair. 

“I hope you're not tender headed. This is going to take a while....”

———

Ren rolled his shoulder uncomfortably under the stiff new armour as he trailed behind Hux and Phasma. There was no need to clear a path through the glittering, chattering crowd. Ren alone had the crowd parting like water mixed with oil. Though part of it could just as likely have been Hux's appearance, Ren had to admit.

Hux was stunning in dress whites, a ceremonial red sash draped across his chest, the white tunic trimmed in black and red brocade, with crimson shoulderboards. As always, the General wore his greatcoat, this one white, and lighter than the heavier black version. A perfect black belt with silver buckle sat on his waist, slimming his figure. Only Phasma knew that the sleeves of his tunic concealed a pair of wickedly sharp, easily accessible monomolecular blades- that she also knew he was incredible adept at using. 

To keep his figure streamlined and svelte, he’d complemented the outfit with crisp black pants that had white along the inseam, and white stripes down the sides. He wore a brand new pair of perfectly polished black leather boots that just reached the tops of his calves, and a pair of gloves to match. His hair was perfect, as always, and he seemed to glide through the room. 

Phasma was in her usual armour, which was shined and polished to a gleaming perfection, her captain’s cloak brand new, embroidered along the edges with the First Order insignia. Beside her, arm laced through the taller woman's, Captain Maetra Aervon gleamed and shone like a gem. Her dark skin was flawless, her black hair pulled up into a bun with tight curls framing her face. Amber eyes were bright and sharp, her full lips painted with a dark blood red that matched the red trim of her own dress whites- though she had forgone the pants and wore a pencil skirt with white heels. Despite the vast difference in their heights, Phasma and Aervon made a handsome couple, and both seemed very pleased with the company. 

_Hux seems so in his element,_ Ren thought as he watched the General greet the Centrist Senators and Representatives, either making sweeping bows or kissing the backs of hands, his tone and expression smooth, cordial, comfortable and charismatic. He realised himself that this was not where his power truly was, that the Force couldn't woo a crowd like Hux could. 

“If I might have everyone's attention,” Hux said as he ascended to the dais in the centre of the room. A hush fell over the crowd, and eyes turned upward to the attractive young officer who represented, had achieved, and aspired to do and be so much for the Order. 

“I want to thank everyone for their presence here this evening. This celebration is for you, our allies and comrades, for without your support, we never would have surmounted this level of success and progress with our plans to bring order to the suffering galaxy.”

Appreciative murmurs echoed through the crowd. 

“The Republic has failed many worlds. Societies wither, decay in stagnation, in lack of aid, support, supplies from the supposed saviours of the galaxy. Civilisations that had once flourished under the Empire now suffer from hunger and rioting, from illness and crime. Where is the aid that the Senate promised? Where has the help from their beloved Resistance gone?”

Hux pointed to a Representative. 

“Representative Myron's world was on the brink of collapse, ignored by the Senate. His people were starving, dying, and their pleas fell on deaf ears of the Republic. It was the Order who brought supplies, medicine, and opened trade routes once again to bring prosperity to the dying world, bringing it back from the brink of collapse! The Order chased off opportunistic fringe elements who sought to take root and thrive off the suffering of a world ignored by the Core!”

Representative Myron bowed his head. 

“It's true, General,” he said passionately. “The Order saved my world when I was lucky to even make it to the Senate to put in a petition for a hearing! Constantly, I was dismissed, or made to wait in line while my planet suffered- yet the Senate itself, the Hosnian system, seemed to have no shortage of food, comfort and safety! The spice runners, the slavers are gone, there is employment opportunities with the Order, and the economy has recovered- all without any assistance from the Republic!”

Others raised their voices to add to the agreement, and Hux patiently let them tell their stories, sing their praises of how Hux's armies, how the Supreme Leader, had brought life back to their homes. The crowd was in high spirits that continued to rise, morale growing with each passing moment. 

“Tonight is for you, my friends, my allies,” Hux said loudly. “To the allies of the Order, to a new era of prosperity and order that will overthrow the dissidence, the decadence and apathy of the stagnating Republic! The First Order still has much to accomplish, and we are far from done, but tonight, we celebrate what we have achieved, for it could not have been done without all of you!”

He lifted a glass of wine high, and the crowd followed suit.

“To you, to the Order, to the Supreme Leader, who will bring this galaxy back to a widespread peace for all that live!”

The crowd toasted, and applause rang through the chamber. Hux bowed, smiling, and with a motion of a gloved hand, the band began playing again, and the festivities resumed. Ren slid behind Hux, pressing close. Close by, Phasma had taken Aervon's hand, and the two women were dancing- Phasma surprisingly light on her feet as they waltzed, onlookers murmuring approval of the handsome couple.

_You know how to stir a crowd._

_I learned from the best,_ Hux replied as he kissed the back of a young woman's hand- yet another in a long procession of them that evening. Many young women- and men- were being paraded in front of him by their parents, hopeful that the successful, charismatic, handsome- and very single, available- General might notice their offspring.

It was no secret Hux had ambition beyond General, and some hoped to toss their eligible children in front of him as a possible match. Most were women- Hux did not keep his gender a secret, but he didn’t openly broadcast it, either- and many assumed he would need a woman to bear him potential heirs. 

Hux ignored every hopeful expression of the parents of each eligible young person he greeted- he would have his heirs on his own terms, in his own time, and he would not have a relationship based on a political match, especially none of these, most of which looked terrified of him, or so overwhelmed as to be reduced to near silence. Only a few retained their wits enough to exchange witty remarks, and those Hux found more dangerous than anything- he made sure he kept politically capable people at arm’s length until he could discern their intentions, and had no plans on letting them attempt to woo him.

Never mind the whole point was moot, as his thoughts in regards to any intimacy kept revolving back to the silent masked figure just behind and to the side. 

“Armitage!” A voice cried out, shrill with delight. 

Hux smiled as a black-haired woman with dark golden skin bustled up to them in a silk dress of ebony and copper that flowed about her, the cut of the dress a nod to the robes of nobility she had once worn. She was easy on the eyes, with smooth facial features, but sharp pointed cheeks, a petite nose, and elegant brown eyes. Jewels glittered at her throat, ears and wrists, and the scent of expensive floral perfume hung about her like a cloud. A blood red flower was affixed behind her ear. Hux hesitated at the sight of the flower, taken aback, but recovered with another smooth smile.

“Lady Sindian,” Hux said, bowing to her. She slapped lightly at his shoulder.

“My dear, _dear_ Armitage, you know you needn’t bow, seeing as I am no longer nobility,” she tittered to cover up the bitterness in her voice. “But I do hope you'd honour me with a dance?”

Hux removed his greatcoat and looked at Ren. Without a word, Ren took it from him, draping it over his arm- and flashing his lightsaber as he did so to all that might be looking. Carise faltered as she noticed Ren, still wary from their first meeting, but the Knight was no longer paying attention to either of them. Something was.... off. He extended his focus, feeling for the source of the disturbance. Hux smiled at the former Senator, oblivious to Ren’s discomfort. 

“You remember Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader's apprentice, of course. He is acting as my guard tonight,” he said smoothly. “He prefers not to speak- it breaks his concentration on the Force, you understand.”

Carise nodded, still eyeing the masked figure owlishly. 

“O-of course, my dear, but do you really expect trouble this evening?” She asked quietly as Hux took her hand and led her to the floor to dance. 

“I always expect trouble as the leader of the Order's armies,” he said, his voice low as they fell into the waltz. “I would be remiss if I didn't expect less.”

“My dearest General, you’re just like your father. He always was too paranoid,” Carise teased as Hux spun her, her gown flaring like a blossom around her ankles. Hux laughed lightly, covering up his distaste as he pulled her back in. 

“Can you blame me, everything considered?”

Her expression sobered instantly.

“No, I can't, Armitage. We’ve both wagered and lost during this campaign. Some of us losing more than others,” she hissed lightly, glancing pointedly at the rank stripes on his sleeves.

“Smile, dearest Carise, this is a celebration, not a funeral,” Hux said with a winning smile, but his tone was hard and cold behind his gritted teeth. Brendol Hux had naught to do with this night, and not even a mention of him would be allowed. 

“If only Sloane could have attended. She always was such an elegant woman,” Carise sighed. “Even if she is an odd creature who refuses to wear dresses. She’d look so _lovely_ in a backless gown of ivory silk-”

“I feel safer with her where she is, it was not for a lack of wanting her here,” Hux retorted smoothly, cutting off her rambling. He’d never seen his mother in anything but uniforms, tunics and pants. The idea of Rae Sloane in a dress was disorienting.

“So you would risk my life instead? What a dreadful General I have as a dance partner!” Her tone was that of mock scandalised disbelief.

Hux dipped her, lifting a brow. 

“Says the dreadful woman who couldn't wait for the event,” he grinned. 

Flushed as he pulled her back up, Carise tittered again as they spun. The crowd watched them, smiling and nodding in approval at the General's grace. Ren continued watching them, slipping through the crowd to keep Hux close. He still felt something was wrong... there was something malevolent, disturbing, somewhere in the room…. 

The song came to an end, and the dancers applauded the band, and the spectators applauded the dancers. Carise curtsied deeply into her skirts for Hux as he bowed from the waist, then she moved to smooth the front of his tunic. 

“Your father would have been so proud of you, Armitage. I know that,” she said softly. “You turned out so much like him. Let us hope that continues.”

Hux kept his smile pasted to his face, but his eyes had gone cold, his heart pounding, and his hindbrain was screaming at him that something, somewhere, had gone utterly, entirely _wrong,_ and he needed to leave this woman’s side _immediately._ However, the rage of being compared to Brendol Hux, stating falsehoods about him being proud of him, had him frozen in place. Carise smiled and pulled the flower from behind her ear. She twirled it between fingers encased in black satin gloves, staring at it. 

“I hear you don’t see many flowers where you’re stationed,” she said quietly, almost too quietly to hear. “It must be dreadful, being surrounded only by metal all the time, and such dour company.”

Ren came closer. Sirens were going off in his head, and his stomach was full of ice. The disturbance was intensifying, then subsided, before rising again. It was ebbing and flowing, the waves of a mind anticipating, waiting- as if for a signal. There was unease, almost panic, and utter rage emanating from Hux- he felt it, too. A group of Senators were idly chatting, blocking his path to Hux, and Ren growled beneath his mask. They looked up at him in shock.

“Move,” he snarled, voice low and growling with singular purpose- to terrify and intimidate.

They parted immediately, nearly falling over one another to be out of his way, and Ren moved in haste to cross the room to Hux, time slowing as his vision shrank to a pinpoint that centred on Hux and Lady Carise. He watched, suddenly feeling the malevolence flood the room as Carise pressed the red flower's stem behind the single black bar pinned to Hux’s tunic, effectively pinning the blood red blossom to Hux's chest, the petals like a stain of blood on the white cloth. 

A signal.

Ren reached out, just in time, but still too late, as the shot rang out. 

Screams filled the chamber as Hux crumpled to the floor, blood splattering the white of his uniform. Carise fled from the General, panic overtaking her as she ran, crimson sprayed on the ebony and copper of her dress. Ren dropped the coat, rushing to Hux's side. 

_Hux!_

_I- I'm okay. You-_

Hux was bleeding profusely, his cheek gouged by the shot that had been thrown off just in time by Ren's shield. It was deep, and would need stitches- Ren felt a wave of rage as he could actually see a glimpse of his cheekbone. He didn’t have time to try to tend to Hux’s wound. Another flood of malevolence, this time with desperate frustration and panic, and Ren dropped low, crouching over Hux- who blinked owlishly when Ren actually _growled_ , low and deep in his throat. 

Hux felt a flush of heat in his abdomen, and he actually fought the urge to laugh hysterically at the preposterousness of the situation- his adrenaline and his appreciation for Ren was making him have very inappropriate reactions to Ren’s feral protectiveness.

Ren’s lightsaber was in hand, ignited and ready to deflect hostile fire, his other hand resting protectively on Hux’s stomach, pulling the other man closer to him. Extending the Force around them, another shot went flying harmlessly into the ceiling, deflected by Ren's shield. Hux pulled his legs in close, shifting to look up at Ren as he propped himself up on an elbow, his other hand moving to Ren’s incredibly tense thigh to pull himself up. Ren’s muscle was like coiled durasteel, trembling with building energy as he braced with the Force to protect Hux from further attack- or to launch himself at the attacker. 

Considering that the latter would send him flying, Hux hoped he would remain defending him, and not go on the attack. The thought of being flung across the floor definitely put a damper on his wildly inappropriate arousal. Ren wasn’t entirely defensive, however- he’d been hunting from his position. Scanning his eyes rapidly in combination with pinpointing the shooter's emotions, Ren saw a figure on the floor above breaking into a run.

“PHASMA,” he bellowed, his mask modulating the command, making him sound like a ravenous rancor. “ABOVE.”

He cast a glance at Aervon, who let go of Phasma immediately, and both women took off in separate directions- Aervon was faster than she looked, even in heels, and Phasma was the picture of physical perfection- and oddly not as noisy as one would have expected her to be in her armour. Hopefully they would catch the would-be assassin. Ren turned his attention back to Hux, who was now pressing his hand to his cheek, his other hand seeking the flower and ripping it from his chest, casting it to the floor. He still felt the warmth of Hux’s hand lingering on his thigh. 

_Are you okay?_

_You saved my life. Intentionally, this time._

_That was the point of my presence here tonight._

Phasma came back into view, clutching the scruff of a small middle-aged man who was bleeding profusely from a broken nose. Even clad in armour as she was, Phasma looked pleased with herself, and Ren couldn't help but think she looked like a semi-tame krayt dragon bringing back a kill. Hux noticed that Aervon was directing the guests out to safety, demonstrating the social grace and skill of a diplomat. He made note to give her a few days of liberty- her and Phasma both- as thanks for helping with the situation. 

“Shall I kill him?” Phasma asked bluntly- almost eagerly. Hux got to his feet and shook his head.

“No. Knock him out. We're taking him back. Put him in an interrogation room.”

Ren waited to see if Hux needed assistance, then trailed after him silently, anticipation rising as Hux's face had gone cold as he issued the order, his voice even colder.

“Ren and I will question him ourselves.” 


	13. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux interrogates an old enemy who hits some sore spots- so Hux makes some sore spots of his own on his target, and all over Kylo's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild transphobia in this chapter- typical spineless bullying and deadnaming from an asshole trying to trip up a trans adversary. Also some mildly violent torture- and not so mild throat ripping. Rough sex and bloodplay in this chapter that can be skipped without being integral to plot, feel free to skip after Hux and Kylo leave the interrogation room.

The interrogation room was cold- a stipulation of the First Order in such arrangements. The walls were sound proof, and around the room, tools of the trade glinted wickedly in the low light, promising invasive, intimate, and excruciating pain. 

None of these tools would be used on the room's current occupant, however.

Phasma entered the room, a figure of emotionless horror, the intimidating chrome armour that turned her from a polished officer to a horrifying bulwark of ruthless efficiency. Sweeping through the room, she made sure the man was secured tightly to the elevated table, arranged the tools to be in his line of sight, making a great show of polishing, preparing, and organising them before administering the opening blows intended to soften the man up. Punches, slaps, wrenching of joints, all for the purpose of weakening his resolve. 

She purposely avoided his face- identification was key in discovering who had sent this would-be assassin. 

After a few minutes of this, she silently left the room, the door shutting behind her. The man remained silent, resigned. There would be no leaving this place alive, and he knew it. 

The door opened again- how long? Minutes? Hours? It was hard to tell- and two figures swept into the room. 

Still wearing blood splattered whites, Hux was the picture of regal fury. His hair had been combed back into its usual picture of perfection, his cheek was stitched up, a bacta patch covering the sutures, and Ren was a nightmare of black, red and silver, a creature in a mask trailing behind the white clad General with fingers twitching with the desire to strangle the life out of their restrained captive. 

“It's been a long time, General,” the man said quietly. 

“Have we... met?” Hux asked carelessly as he picked up a long thin rod- usually used for slapping limbs to break bones over time- and used it to lift the man's chin. Cold eyes studied the captive, and only after a full minute of scrutiny, did recognition dawn on the General's face.

“Ah… Regan Gilbore,” he said with the air one of finding bantha shit on their shoe. “It took me a while to recognise you under the bruises and what looks to be four decades of age instead of a little under two.”

Gilbore struggled to spit at Hux, but his mouth was too dry. 

“Look at you,” Hux sneered. “At my mercy, and you could have been in my command. How the self proclaimed mighty fall to the wayside.”

“It's a shame I missed,” Gilbore spat. “A shame you have a pet Sith to protect you.”

“I am a Knight of Ren,” Ren snarled quietly. “Sith are weak, compared to me.”

Hux ignored Ren, letting him posture and hiss all he wanted. 

_Don't kill this one. He and I have history._

_I surmised as much,_ came Ren's dry retort. 

Hux circled the table, arms folded behind him. His leather shoes clicked on the floor as he moved around the table, silent, seething. His eyes glittered in the low lights, the steely gaze unnerving his captive as it never wavered from his face. Ren simply watched Gilbore with the intensity of a vornskr, trembling with suppressed rage, longing to strike. 

“Would have been fitting, seeing you die surrounded by your fellow Imperial traitors,” Gilbore said after almost five minutes of silence, unable to stand the tension as Hux circled him like a scavenger. 

“Who sent you, Gilbore? You are hardly of notice, rank or importance to have had access to the soiree this evening,” Hux asked as he stopped in front of his captive- and just out of spitting distance. 

A grin broke the older man's face, and Hux wrinkled his nose to see that time had been just as cruel to his teeth as it had been to his facial features, leaving them yellowed, chipped, like a badly aged book left in the sun, gums receded to make them look longer and almost nightmarish in his wrinkled visage.

“You'd like to know, but you won't get it out of me.”

“Ren.”

Ren moved forward before Hux had even turned away, hand stretching out towards Gilbore's face. He showed no consideration, no care as he clawed into the captive’s head. The man twitched, rocking against his bonds as the Knight roughly shoved his way into his mind. Fingers twisted in mid air, wrist turning, and the room grew thick with tension and the Force as Kylo Ren wrung through Regan Gilbore's consciousness. 

Gilbore gasped, sweat pouring down his face, but aside from his gasping, and the scraping of his body against his bonds, there was no other sounds in the room, both Knight and General focused silently on the writhing man. 

After a moment, Ren hesitated, and lowered his hand. Gilbore immediately slumped, panting, as he went limp. Hux lifted a brow. 

“What is it?”

“The Resistance sent him... he talked with someone on Arkanis.”

Hux frowned. 

“Who?”

Ren hesitated, then continued. 

“Carise Sindian.” 

Gilbore laughed, blood trickling from his nose as Hux blinked, his eyes wide as he replayed the events of the evening- Carise’s insistence at a dance, her repeated disappointment that Sloane hadn't attended.... 

“The flower was a signal.”

Gilbore laughed again. 

“Clever General. Figured it all out, did you?”

He grinned, those nightmarish teeth flashing again. 

“Carise was so frustrated, you know,” he sneered. “She so had her heart set on retaking her place as Senator, but that you had no intention of helping her reclaim her position- or her ranks and titles. And then we all found out what happened to your father… and what you did to Brooks… turnabout is fair play, right? We thought if Sloane were out of the picture...”

“Sloane is untouchable where she is,” Hux said dismissively. Ren was still, but was curious what the man meant regarding Hux’s father.

 _Not now,_ Hux said, and Ren realised, shocked, he’d pressed against Hux’s mind curiously without thinking. 

The skeletal grin spread over Gilbore’s face even wider. 

“Not the woman who whelped you… or her wife,” he sneered. 

Hux's face was perfectly emotionless, but Ren could feel the cold fear, the panic rising in him- fear that the last good part of his life was in mortal danger. Carefully, to keep the general calm, Ren projected reassurance- awkward as it might have been- to soothe him.

 _Contact her once we dispose of him. She will be fine,_ he said, though he was caught by surprise. He had assumed Hux’s biological mother was long deceased. The General was full of secrets, it seemed. 

Hux moved closer to the man.

“What made you go to the Resistance? Trade outdated Academy secrets for rank and position? Or was it for a bottle of brandy and some dregs of spice?” Hux hissed. “Did they feed you false promises of vengeance and glory in exchange for the death of the man they fear to the point of whispering his name like a curse?”

Gilbore ignored Hux's words, his watery eyes focused on the nightmare behind the General.

“General Organa sends her regards,” he said simply. 

If there was a reaction he expected, he got none. Ren didn't so much as flinch. Hux used the rod to make Gilbore look at him. 

“Your petty revenge failed. You'll get what's coming to you, just as Brooks did…. Just as your brother did.”

Rage finally crossed Gilbore's face.

“My brother was ten times the man you were, you skinny little womp rat!” He shrieked, voice cracking. “Our family pulled ourselves from nothing to get into Rax’s program, to be taken to the Remnant, and you, spoiled, coddled little _child,_ took everything away just by bearing the name you were lucky enough to be born with!”

Hux sneered, lifting the man's chin with the rod. 

“If you think for a second that being the bastard son of that fat slob gave me any kind of advantage, you’re even stupider than I thought. That embarrassment of a man did everything he could to squash me, and just like your brother, failed. He was a coward, just like your brother. I spent many a sleepless night working on my advancements, while he bullied others into cowing, trying to get everyone under his heel. He sent three of his largest friends to take me out because he was too much of a coward to do it himself- and they all went to the med bay barely conscious.”

The rod whipped against Gilbore's nose, and a crack sounded, along with the sharp cry of pain from the man as his already broken nose was further cracked under the rod’s impact. Hux grinned, but it was more like he was baring his teeth, a predator scenting blood. 

“When Larson finally confronted me, he was still a coward, cornering me in the showers of all places, trying to slip me up in the water, and still, he ended up dying, because it was me, or him, and I do not. Die. Easily. You all think me weak, but I am destined for something greater than your petty type of glory, Regan. The _galaxy_ is my inheritance, and I am not dying for some filthy commoner who can't do his own dirty work,” Hux hissed, and he prodded Gilbore's nose with the rod- roughly. 

“I am not weak,” he hissed. “I am patient.”

Gilbore screamed again as bone fragments in his broken nose were shifted, crunching loudly. Ren was watching with what could only be rapt fascination, hearing Hux’s even breaths, feeling his excitement, but most incredible- and arousing- of all, was the fact that Hux’s heart rate was staying a calm, steady rate of sixty beats per minute. It had been one thing when Ren had “watched” Hux torture Brooks, but this was different. This side of Hux was new to him, dangerous, calculating, and gorgeous. Hux was glittering with malice, with viciousness, ruthless fervour, and Ren drank it in like sunlight. 

_Starting to get a whole new level of appreciation for you, Hux._

There was a flicker of acknowledgement from the seething General, with the promise of something more. Ren felt his stomach grow hot and tight, but he waited. This was Hux's work, his personal business.

His kill. 

“Good to see you finally grew some balls, Elizabeth,” Gilbore sneered. “Daddy's little girl finally grew up to be a man like she always wanted. Did you ever get yourself a real pair of-” 

Ren didn't even have time to react- Hux whirled, a flash of silver in his hand, moving faster than Ren could have anticipated, and Gilbore's throat erupted into a spray of crimson, a gurgle cutting off the taunt that was bubbling from the man's mouth. 

Hux stood there, sprayed, soaked in blood, knife still clutched in his steady hand as he stared at the dying man. The only sign of his emotional state was his left eye twitching. A flick of his bloody wrist, and the monomolecular blade slid back into its hiding place in Hux’s sleeve. Ren stood motionless, watching as Hux reached forward and slid gloved fingers into the gaping wound, pulling the man forward. 

Seventy beats per minute. 

“More the man than you, the pathetic commoner, you filthy gutter trash, slaughtered like a nerf,” he seethed quietly, and with a motion, he twisted his wrist, fingers digging in the rent throat. A gurgle, an attempt at a scream issued from open throat and mouth, and Hux wrenched, pulled, then _yanked-_ and he ripped the man's hyoid bone from his neck in a fresh gout of blood. 

“I'll keep this. Just like I kept your brother's. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll find your last brother and have a complete set,” he said coldly, watching the life fade from Gilbore's eyes as the blood poured from the ripped and torn throat. 

Turning on his heel, staying steady, even on the blood slick floor, Hux left the room. Ren stared for a minute as the General departed, his whites stained crimson, his composure as cold as the surface of the Starkiller Base, then silently followed after him, a fire burning from loins to chest, a slow, low burning fire of arousal at what he’d seen.

Seventy-five beats per minute.

Phasma was outside the room, and despite being in her armour, her body language spoke measures of her delight. Ren lifted a hand to stop her as she moved after Hux.

“Just get someone to clean up in there. There's nothing else to be had out of him,” Ren said quietly before continuing after Hux.

Seventy beats per minute, and slowly dropping again as Hux regained his composure.

Phasma watched them go, a hum of satisfaction issuing from her. She hailed two maintenance crew, who eyed the General with apprehension as he passed, then scurried to her side. She pointed at the room behind her.

“Clean up is needed. Dispose of the body in the incinerator,” she ordered, then headed off after receiving an affirmative from the two men. 

They exchanged looks. Ren had been immaculate, free of blood. The General had been soaked, still clutching something bloody in his red right hand. They entered the room and stopped dead in their tracks. 

“Stars above,” one murmured as the other tried valiantly not to be sick. 

There had been whispers about Hux being a desk officer, a man who didn't see combat, and had only risen to ranks through sims and his connection with Rae Sloane, that his viciousness only stemmed from near obsessive perfectionism. Even the rumours about Brendol, about Brooks, had not lent great credence to his reputation- there had been no evidence of what had happened to the two men. The dead man on the interrogation table with the ruined, gaping throat spoke otherwise.

No one would speak ill of General Hux’s resolve or abilities after that evening.

———

Hux said nothing as they entered his quarters, shedding his uniform haphazardly and letting it drop to the floor in a trail behind him as he wandered to the refresher. The uniform was ruined, there was no need to care about where it fell. He let his bloody trophy clatter on his desk in a cacophony of bone on metal, and finally, naked, he disappeared into the refresher as Ren stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

“Get in here,” Hux said, just loud enough to be heard as he started the shower. His tone was unmistakable, and Ren was incapable of defying it. 

He immediately obeyed. He began stripping, removing the annoying sash from around his torso, his armour, mask, boots, underclothes. He couldn't seem to get naked fast enough, and it felt like years had passed when he finally stepped into the shower. Without a word, Hux pressed against him, arms slipping around Ren's narrow waist as he pressed his face against the Knight's chest. Ren held him, feeling Hux shake in his arms. His mind was screaming, images of himself being beaten up, of leering faces, of chants of a name that wasn't his used as an insult that rang in his ears like reverberations of an aftershock. 

Ren held him tighter, fingers digging into his back firmly. Blood rinsed from Hux's face and hair, swirling down the drain around their feet. Suddenly concerned for Hux's wound, Ren pulled back and checked to see if the bacta patch was keeping the blood out of the sutures. Hux looked up at him, eyes bloodshot- and Ren realised he was fighting to hold back tears, and was losing the battle. 

_He was pathetic, using someone else to get to you,_ Ren said silently, fingers running through wet bloody hair. _Pretending someone else was you, using a ghost to hurt you. They aren't you, they never have been._

Hux shuddered, and grateful relief flooded Ren's mind. 

_Bathe me, then take me to bed,_ he said quietly. _Don't bother drying me off. Just put me in bed._

Ren set to lathering his hands with soap, and washing the blood and gore from Hux's face and hair, then picked up his nail brush and scrubbed the gore out from under his nails. He was careful, attentive to the wound on his face, making sure not to displace the patch, then rinsed Hux off. He turned the water off, and carried Hux to bed. Ren hesitated, stood, and Hux snatched at his wrist. 

_Stay._

_Are you sure?_

_Get in the fucking bed, Kylo Ren._

Ren slid into bed beside Hux, who immediately pulled the taller man on top of him. 

“Lights, five percent,” he said out loud, his voice unsteady. The lights flickered to near darkness, casting both men in shadow.

 _On your knees,_ he thought quietly in Ren's mind as he reached over and pulled a familiar bottle from his nightstand. Ren moved to his knees, sitting on his heels between Hux’s legs as Hux applied lube to his cunt. He then hooked his legs around Ren's waist, hands tangling in his hair to pull him close. 

_Tell me a word. A word you wouldn't say unless you needed to. A safe word._

_Hydrospanner,_ Ren replied without thinking. He was confused- Hux was distressed, raw, wounded, emotionally drained, traumatised, and yet he was pulling Ren on top of him. Despite all that, Ren's cock was already hard, nudging against Hux's cunt. 

_Good boy,_ Hux replied. _Use it if I hurt you too much. Now fuck me._

_On top?_

_Did I fucking stutter, Kylo Ren? Fuck me,_ Hux snapped, and nails dug into Ren's back roughly, raking furrows down the pale skin. Ren hissed in a mixture of surprise and pleasure- yes, _this_ was what he had wanted earlier from Hux. He didn't question, and he pushed into Hux- but blinked at how TIGHT he was. 

_You... you're not..._

_That is what the lube is for, Ren. Just fuck me until it hurts, or until you come, whichever happens first._

Ren didn't argue. Hux had sunk his teeth into the soft juncture of his neck and shoulder and was biting _hard,_ and he couldn't think, just react, as he began fucking Hux, leaning over him as he pounded hard into his cunt. 

Hux moaned, muffled around the mouthful of neck and he bit harder, breaking skin. Copper and salt flooded his mouth, and he worried the bite a bit with his teeth. Ren moaned loudly, stiffening. That was going to leave a glorious bruise, and the pain was exquisite. This, this was what he'd been wanting, teeth in his neck, nails in his back, Hux's groaning sighs in his ears. 

_Harder,_ Hux insisted. _I want you to bruise my insides. I want to feel this for days afterwards. Tear me apart._

 _You, too? Please?_ Ren begged. 

Nails raked another row of furrows down his back before moving to his shoulder blades, where fingers dug nails in painfully deep. A grunt from Ren, and he pounded harder, mercilessly into Hux, only to be rewarded by the teeth in his neck biting harder, opening the wound more. A second later, teeth withdrew, and Hux prodded the punctures with his tongue, lapping at the blood. He released one shoulder to grab Ren's chin, and kissed him hard, slipping his tongue into the Knight's mouth to share his own blood with him. 

Ren groaned, his mouth hungrily engulfing Hux's. The General's mouth was hot, raw from shed tears, and tasted of salt, copper, and the barest residue of wine from the gala- a bouquet of summer fruit, spices and autumn florals. Feral and refined, all at once, and so wonderfully _him,_ so perfectly _Hux._

For a few moments, the only sound in Hux's room was their lips meeting in the low light, the fast, slick sound of Ren's cock slamming in and out of his lover, and the smacking of his balls against Hux's ass. Ren let out another moan, breaking the quiet as Hux broke the kiss and bit at his clavicle, hands roving to hips and working on creating a new set of bloody scratches in Ren's upper back. 

_Yes, yes, Kylo. Fuck me. Such a good pet, such a good boy,_ Hux praised as his throat issued moans that were far less eloquent. 

The fact that Hux wasn't able to speak out loud- and had said just his first name- had Ren pushing closer to the edge, and he rocked his hips harder, slamming into Hux's cunt. He slammed harder, deeper, and Hux actually let out a cry of genuine pain as Ren felt his cock hit the yielding, but definite barrier of Hux’s cervix. Teeth bit harder into his collarbone, blood trickling down his chest, and pain radiated through his back as nails broke skin, Hux wrapping his legs tight around Ren's waist as he paused his frantic thrusting, concerned. 

_Hux-_

_Did I fucking **tell** you to stop? _

Ren resumed his pounding of Hux’s abused cunt, but the cry of pain Hux had made, and the shudder his body had made when his cock had rammed his cervix had him tilting his hips to give a different angle, and reaching out with the Force, he stroked the bundle of nerves he knew would set Hux over the edge. He was instantly rewarded with a hissing grunt from Hux, and a full body stiffening, legs, teeth, and fingernails clenching tighter.

_Coming._

The single word was all Hux managed, his throat making guttural sounds as he continued worrying teeth at his lover's clavicle, tongue licking at the blood. Close to the brink himself, Ren slipped a hand between their hips, fingers finding Hux's cock and rolling, flicking and rubbing the sensitive head. 

_Come with me, Armitage._

Hux let out a sound that was barely human, teeth and nails digging in so deep, his cunt clamping around Ren's cock so tight that the Knight saw stars as he spilled his seed into the General with a cry that bordered on a scream. The headboard of Hux's bed rattled as Ren lost control, slamming against the wall. Luckily, there was no chronometer in reach to destroy this time- he was pretty sure Hux had removed all electronics from his room after the first time.

 _Mine,_ Hux murmured mentally as Ren collapsed on top of him, a throaty growl in his throat. _Mine._

He repeated the word over and over, kissing blood from Ren's collarbone, his neck, fingers running carefully over furrows and wounds. Unable to vocalise, Ren simply made a sound close to a purr as he pressed his face into Hux's neck. They were still for a while- it could have been minutes, it could have been hours- panting, hearts racing in a bruised, bloody, but satisfied tangle of limbs. Finally, Hux stirred.

_Up. Let me tend to your wounds._

_They'll heal._

_Up. **Now.**_

Unable to disobey, Ren disentangled himself from Hux, and sat up. Hux wordlessly rummaged through his nightstand again and pulled out a small bottle of bacta cream. He moved to sit by Ren, applying the ointment to the bitemarks, the crescents where his nails had rent open his skin. Ren huffed.

_What if I wanted them to scar?_

_Human beings, even when they have meticulous oral hygiene like myself, still have some of the most bacteria filled mouths in the galaxy. I won't have you getting infections from our trysts._

His tone softened as he kissed Ren's shoulders, fingertips touching each mole, every beauty mark he encountered. 

_I also want you to know you did well. You did what I asked. Such a good boy, Kylo. Such a sweet pet. I’m so pleased with you. Thank you, for making it hurt so good, so I could forget, even for a short while._

Ren nearly swooned under the praise, the validation, the comforting acknowledgement that he mattered, had done well, was appreciated. He closed his eyes and leaned into Hux's caring administrations with a low hum of sated contentment. 

_Are you okay?_

Hux didn't answer at first, ensuring that Ren was cared for properly. Ren patiently waited, letting Hux work it out on his own. Hux got up and headed to the refresher with a single _Stay._ Ren could hear the sound of the sink, hear Hux washing- undoubtedly wiping his crotch clean. He returned a few minutes later, bringing back a damp hot cloth. Carefully, gently, he set to wiping Ren down. Ren hissed slightly as overstimulated flesh was touched, but between Hux's gentle motions and soothing words, he relaxed. Having already wiped himself clean, Hux pulled Ren under the blankets with him. 

_Stay tonight. The whole night? ….I need you here._

Ren nodded against Hux's neck as he pressed close. He wasn't sure about affection, about taking this beyond sex and domination, but he knew Hux was raw- he'd had a brush with death orchestrated by old ghosts, and former close allies who’d also targeted his family. He'd been misgendered, dead-named, reminded of painful events in his past. He needed Ren.

_Wait. Let me…_

Hux sat up as Ren twisted, rolling over onto his back, enjoying the sting of his wounds as they met the cloth of the sheets. He tugged at Hux's wrist, pulling him to rest against his chest, arms wrapping around him. Hux shuddered and relaxed, going limp against Ren's chest, his ear pressing close to listen to his heartbeat. 

_Thank you._

_You are far vicious than anyone gives you credit for,_ Ren said in drowsy amusement. _I almost forgot you kept a knife hidden in your sleeve. And your heartbeat never rose above seventy-five beats per minute._

 _A habit developed from my days in the Academy. One that's saved my life a few times… and that was not my first interrogation. Nor will it be my last,_ Hux replied, yawning widely as he pressed closer, drinking in Ren's warmth, inhaling the scent of their combined sweat and musk, the aftermath of their sex and the comforting fragrance of his bed.

_I was... rather turned on by that. Not the knife... the bit with the... the ripping. Kriff, Hux, you're cruel and vicious and it was exhilarating to see._

_So you thought this more vicious than what I did to Brooks?_

_Brooks’ death scared me,_ Ren admitted. _This turned me on._

Hux chuckled softly, then let out another yawn.

“Lights, off.” 

The room was cast in darkness, and Ren stroked Hux's hair gently. A sigh, long and shuddering, escaped the General, and tears leaked from his eyes onto Ren's chest. Ren, sensing Hux's frustration and shame at the display, said nothing, only continuing to project subtle reassurance in his direction. 

_Thank you, Kylo._

A pause, then:

_Say my name again._

_Armitage,_ Ren replied, running fingers through Hux's hair. _Armitage._

He continued murmuring Armitage's name, over and over, fingers tracing circles over his freckled shoulders, until the distraught General finally succumbed to sleep. Hesitantly, Ren kissed his forehead, then stared at the ceiling, the events of the evening running through his head for nearly an hour before finally letting sleep take him. 


	14. Impasse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux loses an ally, Ren has his first encounter with a ysalamir, and a trust exercise doesn't hold long as Hux begins to suspect a conspiracy in motion to slowly remove him from power- and eliminate him. In the midst of all this, Hux edges Kylo, who breaks a few windows, and meets two of Hux's mothers.

Hux's room was swathed in darkness, wrapping two figures in warm shadow. Ren was resting on his back, arm sprawled to the side and his hand dangling over the edge of the bed, blankets half pulled off him. To his left, Hux was splayed out on his stomach, arms under his pillow, and the blankets curled around and under him as he pressed against Kylo’s side. 

Ren had woken up twice to the horrible grinding and squeal of enamel on enamel, the first time sending him sitting upright, fingers grasping for the lightsaber he'd stowed under his pillow. The crackling blade had lit the room with red light, and Hux had jolted awake. Hux had been just as bewildered as Ren was, a knife in his hand, eyes scanning the room. After an awkward moment, they figured out what had woken Ren up- Hux grinding his teeth- it had taken Ren nearly ten minutes to get his heart to slow. The second time Hux began grinding his teeth, an hour later, Ren shoved a knee into his side. The General had grunted, then grumbled in his sleep and rolled over, but the bruxism ceased. 

Ren had considered leaving as Hux moved closer, his uninjured cheek resting against the Knight's shoulder. He didn't like sleeping with other people, and he felt uneasy, being vulnerable in someone else's company- even if his company was far more vulnerable than himself. Hux's request had him staying, and drifting off again, however. Obeying, doing what Hux asked of him felt better than slipping out of bed and leaving the room. That, and he hated to admit it, but after the events of that evening, he was afraid to leave Hux alone.

It was almost 0300 when the electronic chiming woke both men. Hux groped in the darkness for the beeping comm-link, Ren grumbling and taking advantage of Hux sitting up to snatch more blanket coverage from him, and rolling over, pulling a pillow over his head. 

_Blanket hog,_ he groused tiredly. 

_We do need to get a set of blankets for you,_ Hux agreed, and Ren couldn’t stop the small smile that curled his mouth. 

“Hux,” the General said calmly, and Ren had to marvel at it- even at 0300, having been dragged out of post-sex sleep on a stressful evening, he still sounded like he was on the bridge during an inspection. 

“Armitage, please, you need to come quickly!”

The voice was hushed, panicked, and Ren recognised it as Carise Sindian. He sat up, blankets falling from his torso as he looked at Hux. Hux was staring at the comm, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he narrowed his eyes. His face was lit by the blue light of the comm-link’s holo display, making him look ill, exhausted. 

“Armitage?”

“What do you want?” Hux finally asked tersely. 

“Armitage, someone followed me off-world. I haven't been able to shake them!” Carise whispered, her voice desperate. “I'm at the safe-house, and locked myself in, but I don't know how long that will keep them out! You're the only one who can guarantee my safety!”

_It’s a trap._

_I know,_ Hux replied quietly, at the same time, noticing that having Ren in his head didn’t hurt any more- in fact, he mused, it was comforting. Now that he was used to it, accustomed to having Ren’s mind not far from his own, it was almost like a thread that connected their minds, their thoughts- a bright silver-blue line of light that flared with life when they communicated through thoughts, emotions and mental images. 

_You aren’t going to go, are you?_ Ren asked quietly, but Hux knew he already knew the answer.

_Ren… I have to._

Ren heaved an over dramatic sigh, getting out of bed. It took a massive amount of willpower for Hux to keep his eyes on the holo of the frantic Senator, and not let them drift to Ren’s bare ass.

 _I’m coming with you. This is not up for negotiation,_ Ren growled, picking up his under-armour and slipping it over his head. Ren’s flexing arms showed off the gorgeous bruises left behind by Hux’s teeth, and for a wild, irrational moment, Hux nearly considered telling Carise she was on her own so he could drag his Knight back to bed. Ren stalked across the room and began grabbing the pieces of his armour. Carise's eyes widened as she noticed Ren crossing the view of the holo. 

“Armitage... are you-”

“Do you want me to come get you or not?” Hux snapped, something in his gut churning. Something was wrong- more than the obvious trap the former Senator was setting up for him. 

“I... I'm sorry, Armitage. Please, you're the only one who has access to the safe-house to help me!” Carise pleaded.

Hux scrubbed at his face.

“I'll be there shortly,” he said. “Stay down, lock yourself in the vault.”

He cut off the comm before she could reply. On the other side of the room, Ren was nearly completely dressed, pulling his cloak on. He scowled at the red trim. 

“I dislike this set,” he announced to no one in particular, making his distaste known. Hux got up and made his way over to him, long fingers smoothing over the cloak's crimson edges. 

“I like it. It's much better than the ratty one you always wear. It also looked wonderful with my whites, and I would never have anything less than perfection, Kylo Ren,” he said firmly. 

“You don't have to go,” Ren said, seeing through Hux's posturing.

Gloved hands rested on Hux's bare lower back, pulling the General against him. Hux inhaled a bit as his bare skin was pressed against rough armour, leather and cloth. It had been one thing when he was fully uniformed, grooming the unruly hair of Ren as he sat, naked, between his knees. This… being naked against a fully armoured Ren…

He could see why Ren had been at a low level of arousal the entire time he’d been detangling his hair. 

“You know I do,” Hux replied, pressing hands to Ren's chest and pushing away to stride towards his wardrobe. 

Ren made a small sound of frustration. 

“She set you up, Hux. She made the signal to have you shot. Sloane would have died, had she been there, and you want to save this woman?”

Hux looked over his shoulder as he pulled out a uniform. 

“I refuse to look weak. If I refuse to go, it tells my pursuers that I am scared, and easily swayed. I will not be intimidated,” he said, muffled as he pulled his tunic over his head. 

Ren could hardly disagree with the sentiment, but something else was bothering him. 

“You still believe there's a chance she didn't know she was signalling a sniper.”

Hux didn't answer. He knew he didn't have to- after all, Ren was capable of picking through his head for the answer he wanted. Ren sighed and pulled on his mask as Hux flexed fingers in his leather gloves before pulling out a black body armour vest and strapping it on over his tunic.

“Let's go, then,” he said, voice modulated and calm behind the mask. 

Hux bent over and rummaged under his bed. He produced a long, slender case, which he laid open on the bed, revealing a matte black sniper rifle. Ren's surprise was palpable, even behind his mask, as Hux checked the clip and strapped it over his shoulder. His expression was stony. 

“Let's go.” 

Ren said nothing, double checking his lightsaber and striding to the door. Silently, Hux followed him, and the pair headed to the docking back for Ren's shuttle. 

\--

 _There's two prowling in the back, and that one in the front_ , Ren said quietly. _I don't sense any others. They believe themselves hidden._

 _So only three? We can take them out fairly easy_ , Hux replied with a rather confident drawl as he pulled his rifle from his shoulder and moved to sprawl on his stomach. 

He readied his weapon, turning off the safety. Ren eyed Hux and his rifle warily.

_Are you even skilled with th-_

He was cut off as Hux fired the weapon, silencer quieting the shot that cleanly blew the lone figure's head off its shoulders. Hux lowered the weapon and lifted a brow at Ren, a small smirk curling his mouth. Ren felt an odd wave of affection and delight rush through him. Hux never stopped surprising him. 

_Yes,_ he said simply. _Think you can handle the other two?_

A small laugh echoed through Hux's mind that delighted him to no end. 

_Easily. Give me cover fire, and I'll let you know when it's clear._

Without waiting for Hux's reply, Ren silently moved around the building and disappeared behind it. There was a flash of red, an abrupt cry, and the sound of a lightsaber meeting flesh. A man half staggered, half ran from behind the building, an arm missing, the joint where it had once been smoking in the security lights. Hux levelled his rifle, sighting the target in his scope, and pulled the trigger. The man fell to the ground, and was still. 

_I was going to say it's all clear, but you made sure of that, didn't you?_ Came Ren's amused thought. 

Hux said nothing in reply as he shouldered his gun and quietly made his way to the door. Ren came slinking around the corner as Hux knelt to look at the bodies. He frowned. 

“No affiliation I recognise. Random bounty hunters, then?” He nudged the body with the toe of his boot disdainfully, looking at the scuffed armour. He snorted then turned to the door. He keyed in the code, scanned his fingerprints, and allowed the infrared scanner to read his retinas. 

_Excessive._

_Hardly, when you’re allies or suspected allies with the First Order, Centrists or the Imperial Remnant close to the Inner Rim and the Core,_ Hux replied as the door opened, and he slipped inside, Ren close at his heels. 

The door locked behind them, a series of beeps and latching locks sounding as it did so. The safe-house was deceptive on the outside- it looked like a vacation home with excessive security, but was built to withstand basic attacks from ground fire and minor vehicles. However, the real security was underneath. Hux approached the basement door- double layered cortosis inlaid, pressure sealed vault doors, with similar security as those outside. Ren watched as Hux repeated the series of actions to gain access. 

_Whose house is this?_

_It’s my biological mother’s. I commissioned it once we had reunited, and wanted a safe place for her and my step-mother, Lady Maratelle. I authorised use of it as a safe house for Lady Carise and Senator Erudo Ro-Kiintor._

Ren said nothing more as the doors opened, but he intended to pry more if he could- Hux's family had more secrets than his dull- albeit ruthless- military exterior let on. 

As the two descended the stairs, the doors shut again. The walls inside the basement were metal, reinforced, and emergency lights in soft red lined the stairs and corridors- they were off, only turning on in the event main power was shut down. Ren was no architect, but the sense of the weight and sturdiness of the structure around them led him to believe it could withstand an orbital bombardment- though an orbital strike or anything else greater was a tad excessive for a single political family, he mused. 

Hux’s mother and step-mother were clearly his softest weak spot.

“Lady Carise?” Hux called. 

From around the corner, a figure in ebony and copper came running- Carise hadn't even changed out of her dress, the silk still splattered with Armitage's blood from earlier. A sob escaped her as she flung arms around Hux's neck. Hux sighed and rubbed her shoulders gently.

“It's all right, Lady Carise. I'm here. Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head. 

“They took my shuttle,” she managed, her nose red and raw, her voice thick with tears and a stuffed nose. Her hair was askew, face was pale, but her cheeks and eyes were red and swollen. She was a woman terrified for her life, Ren could sense this, but something was setting off alarms in his head. 

“How many?” He asked.

Carise's face tightened in fear as she realised the masked figure from the gala was standing behind Hux. Ren narrowed his eyes. She knew he was an ally. Why would she tense in front of a rescuer? Or why would she think he’d come alone after the events of the evening? Had she _hoped_ he would come alone? If so, why?

“At least five,” she said, her voice strained. “Perhaps more, since one of them took my ship, likely to keep me from escaping.”

 _Where are the other two, then?_ Hux wondered.

_I don't sense them. Either they left with the stolen vehicle, or she mis-remembers. Or... she's stalling us._

_Why would she stall us?_ Hux asked, his voice low, even in his head. 

_That is what I'd like to know... along with why she is not happy to see you here alone._

Hux frowned, and then turned to Carise, voicing the thought that had been bothering him for hours now.

“Lady Carise. Why did you give me that flower?”

She blinked tearful eyes- a little too rapidly. 

“Your mother loved them so, and she was so proud of you... I thought it would be appropriate...”

“According to my mother, she had been gathering flowers for the fallen academy students as a last memorial before extraction- only to watch my father fly away in a bounty hunter’s ship, with me in tow, leaving her to fend for herself, holding a bouquet of red flowers as she watched her son taken away. Why would she love such flowers now?” Hux asked silkily.

Ren didn't even wait for Hux to give permission as he extended his reach into Carise's mind. Alarms were going off louder in his head by the minute, and something was... off. He was feeling like blackness was approaching the house, something deeper and darker than the presence of the Supreme Leader- but there was nothing to it but the empty void, like the cold endless expanse of space. Something told him he needed to get them out, and soon. 

Carise gasped as Ren's grasp reached through her head, tendril snaking through her thoughts, her mind's deeper chambers. Ren was as gentle as he could be in his haste, but it was still jarring, painful, and the woman shuddered and whimpered in Hux's arms. Ren faltered, and turned his head to Hux.

_There is an image... of a woman that is your mother, telling her to give you a flower since she could not be there._

Hux narrowed his eyes.

 _No. My mother cannot abide by flowers any longer. Look at her surroundings. Do you see flowers in the memory?_ He shot back. 

Ren hesitated. 

_No, only your mother's face, smiling- she has a crooked bicuspid, and freckles on her cheeks and nose... and she has an ornate clip in her hair to hide a nerf-lick. She's telling Carise to give you a flower for her._

That was his mother, all right, but the details were _wrong._

_That's not how she is._

_Hux... that's what I see. It's a memory, not a lie, not a fantasy or fabrication,_ Ren said, showing him the image.

_There was his mother, talking to Carise. Their voices were muffled, their faces slightly distorted, as though a thick pane of transparisteel separated them. Angelica was smiling, her teeth flashing, head tossing, red hair shimmering in the kitchen light. She motioned freely with her hands and shoulders, and Carise listened intently._

“ _Give him one, would you? Since I can't be there myself?”_

_“Of course, Angelica!”_

_“Thank you, Carise. I really appreciate it.”_

Hux noticed at once that their surroundings weren't focused, but blurry, and immediately, alarms went off in his head. His mother's smile, her exaggerated gestures, the way she called Carise by name instead of Lady Carise, how Carise hadn't interrupted her- Carise never waited her turn to speak, especially when talking with those she considered inferior, and she did find Angelica inferior.

Which is why he noticed Maratelle wasn’t there- Maratelle was _always_ present when Carise visited. The former Senator thought less of Angelica than she did of Maratelle, the latter being high born, the daughter of a Moff. Angelica was a former kitchen worker, the mother of a bastard of a washed up Imperial Commandant chased off his homeworld. She _liked_ Angelica, of that there was no doubt, but Carise did not hold her in the same esteem as Maratelle. 

_Maratelle isn’t there. Carise never visits simply to call on Máthair, she wouldn’t be there otherwise. And this laughter? The smiles? My mother doesn't show her teeth when she smiles. Not to Carise. Not to the public. She only ever showed her teeth when she smiled for me, and that was when she laughed,_ Hux said firmly, recalling memories of his mother tossing back her head prettily, the kitchen light catching her red hair, her green eyes lit up as she laughed, her delicate fingers brushing over his hair, chucking him under the chin, pressing a kiss to his brow. 

_This is wrong. This is false._

The feeling was getting closer, Ren noted. On top of them. His senses felt-

He was suddenly cut off, and pushed out of Carise's mind. 

Ren felt his entire body go cold, and all of his senses shut down as though he’d been pushed fathoms deep into ice water. In the low light, he could SEE Hux and Carise vaguely- his mask hindered his vision, making him rely on the Force to see, making him see things his eyes would miss- but he couldn’t sense them. He couldn’t feel their energy, couldn’t sense the flow of life through them running over his skin. His sense of smell, hearing, had been dulled to the same level as that of a mortal. 

He was practically blind. 

Hux frowned, seeing Ren tense- and realising Ren was no longer in his head. 

“What is-”

Ren wasn’t sure what possessed him, aside from sheer panic to protect his lover and ally. He lunged at Hux, knocking him away from the woman still in shock at having her mind raked through by the Knight. The both of them went falling to the ground, Ren covering Hux’s body with his own, his arm cradling the General’s head to protect it from the hard floor. As their bodies collided, a shot rang through the underground chamber, and warm blood splattered the both of them. 

A second later, a wet thump and a rustle of silk sounded through the room, and the lights went out. 

“What the void are you d-”

Hux cut off as he searched Ren’s frame, having felt the blood spray them both. His breath hitched in his chest as he realised one side of his face was spattered in blood. 

“No, no, no,” he said aloud, not even realising the words were leaving his mouth in a panic. Hands trembled as he ran fingers over the black armour, then over and around the helmet, fearing the worst- and finding it completely intact. Finding no wound, finding his Knight intact, he breathed a sigh of relief- that turned to a ragged gasp of terror immediately. 

“Lady Carise!” 

He scrambled out from under Ren, practically skittering across the floor, hands searching blindly. Ren heard the sound of a choked snarl, and the rustle of fabric. In the dark, his connection with the Force gone, Ren couldn’t see a thing. He tried reaching out to Hux with his mind, and found that he couldn’t extend his thoughts past his own subconscious. He was a mortal man, the Force gone. 

“Hux!” He choked out. 

“They killed her, Ren, they _pfassking killed her_!” Hux managed, his voice tight and an octave higher than Ren had ever heard it. He was _scared_. 

There was the sound of something wet, something indescribable, and Hux let out a soft strangled cry of horror, and Ren knew they’d nearly blown her head off, and Hux had his gloved fingers in the gore- the worst way to discover someone had died.

Hux was warring with his emotions as he sat on his knees in a puddle of blood, curds of grey matter, smears of blood and shards of bone caked on his gloves. Bits of memory, bits of life, bits of a person, bits of an ally. He’d known Carise since he was a teenager, and even though he knew- as an unwanted bastard only could know- that she tolerated his presence, she thought little of him. Despite that, he knew she was important to the Order, and had been in many meetings between her and Sloane. Over the years, as he’d grown and ascended the ranks, she had grown to respect him, and he her. They had been allies, and Hux took loyalty seriously- hers had been to the point of losing her rank, prestige and reputation in order to try to raise the Order from the ground level in her limited view. 

Hux had been wary of Carise’s intentions, but she was an important ally, with even more important connections. He’d been suspicious of her role in the attempt on his life, but he hadn’t wanted her dead. Yet, now she was, reduced to a bloody corpse under his hands. Her death while under his protection would make his other Centrist allies have doubt in him, especially after the chaos of the last covert meeting between them, and the truth behind the death of his father slowly spreading from the unknown leak. This could- would- be a large blow to his inner circle of supporters still in Republic space. The ramifications of this could be devastating.

A chill ran through Hux as he realised that he wasn’t the target right then. He had been at the gala, but this new foe had been after Carise- and Hux had opened the door for them.

What he wasn’t able to understand at that moment, however, was how Ren hadn’t sensed them. Had he been lax? Was he not well? Hux tried shooting the question to the Knight, and found that Ren wasn’t just out of his head- their connection was cut. The odd thread that connected their minds was gone, the silver-blue light gone out. 

Something was _very_ wrong. 

Another shot went sailing overhead- a warning shot from the assassins at the top of the stairwell. It gave Hux some hope. If they were cautious still, worried about either a lightsaber or Hux’s own sniper rifle- or the knives concealed in his sleeves- then they had a chance. 

“Ren, where are you?” he asked quietly, trying to steady his voice- his survival instincts were kicking in, helping him forget that a friend was lying dead on the floor, just like he almost had been less than twelve hours ago. 

He crawled across the floor back in the direction he’d come from, hands searching blindly for Ren. 

Ren was frozen. He couldn’t sense anything. He was blind, deaf, completely cut off from senses that had become part of him. How was he supposed to protect Hux like this? How was he supposed to protect himself? Was this really how this was to go? Being shot down in a bunker like a mere mortal man? After everything he’d gone through?

A touch on his legs, Hux’s voice. 

“Ren. Move to the wall,” Hux said softly. “They likely have night vision goggles. Move out their line of sight. Come on, now.”

Ren crouched and moved with Hux without hesitation, obeying, as it was all he could do. Hux got to his feet once they were by the wall, and hands found Ren’s shoulders. The Knight was shaking. 

“Ren, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“I can’t… I can’t see, can’t hear, I can’t feel you, Hux, the Force, it’s gone, I’m blind, useless,” Ren babbled, unable to control himself, hands finding Hux’s coat and grabbing it. “How am I supposed to p-”

Hux cut him off, shoving him against the wall. He removed the man’s mask, and silenced any protests with a bruising kiss, teeth biting at his lower lip, fingers digging painfully into the scruff of his neck, his free hand still clutching his rifle. Later, he might think the timing poor, but it was the only thing he could think to do to calm Ren down and take control. Ren exhaled shakily, ragged, through his nose, giving in, relaxing and sagging against the wall. He took comfort from Hux’s dominance, his clear head, his adrenaline and rage fuelled clarity- even covered in the blood of Carise, he wasn’t crumbling. Not this time.

“Hux,” Ren started, as Hux broke away, both men panting, the taste of copper, salt, and panic on their lips. “I’m-”

Hux pressed a gloved finger to swollen, bloody lips.

“It’ll be okay. We have each other, and even without the Force, we are not to be underestimated.”

Ren could barely make out Hux’s face- the emergency lights were starting to flicker on, and there was a slightly angry sound from their pursuers above. They weren’t happy that their quarry was getting visibility back, even slightly. 

“My rifle has night vision in the scope. I can shoot them, but I need them where I can see them. You have to trust me, Kylo, that I’ll shoot them before they shoot you, but I need them out in the open.”

Ren nodded, and replaced his mask. He couldn’t see well with it on, but Hux was right. He had to trust his- mentally he froze. He’d already thought it before, and he’d been about to think it again. His lover. Whose commands he was following without thought, because at this moment, he was blind, and Hux was the one who would get them out of this cleanly, with minimal injury.

“I trust you, Armitage,” he said quietly.

Hux smiled- just a bit- then removed his body armour and pulled it over Ren’s head. It wasn’t a perfect fit- Ren was much wider in the chest and shoulders- but he felt better putting on him. 

“You trust me, but I’ll feel better if you have more armour than your usual get up,” he said, an attempt at levity that Ren actually appreciated. 

“What about you?” he asked, suddenly worried about Hux being vulnerable- and mildly glad for the concern, as it pushed away how conflicted he felt that Hux had given him his body armour.

“I’ll be fine. I have you, don’t I?” Hux replied, and Ren flushed, grateful for the mask covering his face. 

Hux moved to a metal table to the edge of the wall, turning it on its side. Sitting down against the wall, he used his legs to push it into the entrance of the chamber, in sight of the stairwell. A shot rang out and ricocheted off the table, Ren and Hux flattening to the ground instantly. 

“Hyper-vigilant, they might be, but they’re still not willing to tangle with you directly,” Hux murmured as he rolled onto his stomach behind the makeshift barricade and checked his rifle over.

“Despite whatever happened with your connection to the Force, you’re still formidable enough to give them pause.”

Ren knew this was meant to encourage him, but he still felt shivers of panic and upset running through his veins. After being connected to the world all his life through the Force, feeling everything and everyone around him, this was worse than any sensory deprivation. 

“I’ve got you, Kylo,” Hux murmured as he readied his weapon. 

Ren removed his lightsaber from his belt, and ignited the blade. The crackling blade was far more unstable, more volatile than usual, and he felt a new wave of panic. His ability to use the Force, the willpower that came from it was what helped hold the cracked Kyber crystal together when the weapon was activated. The design was meant to make him exert more control over the weapon, to make it an extension of himself when in use. He didn’t have much time before the crystal shattered under the stress. 

Seeing his hesitation, Hux murmured again, his tone reassuring, calming. 

“I promise. It will be quick.”

Ren nodded imperceptibly, and headed into the stairwell, weapon crackling and spitting. He kept his pace confident, unerring- he had to bluff his way through this- and he swept his lightsaber from side to side, as though stretching, warming up as he headed to a slaughter. Unbidden, unwanted, a memory swam to the front of his mind.

_“Sometimes half of getting through the worst fights of your life is bluffing,” Han Solo said to his son as they worked on the Falcon, recounting some of his adventures with Chewie._

_“What’s the other half, Dad?” Eight year old Ben Solo demanded, perched on the armrest of the co-pilot’s chair._

_“Skill, and luck.”_

_“Not the Force?” Ben asked, all wide eyed seriousness._

_“I don’t have the Force, Kiddo. Just luck, and skill. Lots of skill. And the ability to bluff my way out of just about everything. When skill or luck fails you, you bluff.”_

The bluff worked, as a shot sang past him, but was deflected by the swinging of his crackling blade. A moment later, a counter shot flew over his shoulder, and there was a wet thump of a body hitting the floor a moment later. Ren blinked, but didn’t stop his advance, or the swinging of his weapon. Hux hadn’t been joking, nor had the initial kills he’d made that evening been dumb luck- he was a good shot. He made the note to ask Hux where he’d learned the skill once they were out of here, as he was sure that sort of training wasn’t covered in simulations. 

More shots rang out, one slicing through Ren’s cloak, another hitting his shoulder. The armoured layers of his tunic and specialised garb soaked most of the damage, but the shot still opened skin underneath, and he could feel the blood welling up under the armour. Another bounced harmlessly off the armour Hux had put on him. Ren ducked, strafed and dodged as best he could without the Force guiding him, but he didn’t need it as much as he had thought- the shots were coming in greater number, with less time between them- but the aim was less accurate. This led Ren to believe there was only one shooter left, who was desperate to kill Ren before he died to the unstable lightsaber. 

He heard Hux swear, frustrated because the other shooter wasn’t giving a clear shot, and Ren moved to the other side of the stairwell, trying to drag him out. Panicked, worried about being sliced by the crackling red blade- which was sputtering and hissing at a greater rate at this point- the assassin made a fatal move, as another shot was fired, followed by Hux’s replying blast, and the would-be assassin joined their companion on the floor. Ren stopped, and no other shots were fired. The only sound his currently mortal ears could detect was the crackling of his blade, and something-

Ren shut the weapon down and attached it to his belt, heading towards the sound he now realised was a high pitched gurgle, a whine. It only took him a moment to find it, and he stopped, staring in confusion at what he saw- a large lizard-like creature with scales and fur, two sets of dark eyes, attached to an odd framework that the assassin had strapped to his shoulders. Hux’s shot had blown through the assassin’s head, and ripped open the creature’s flank. 

Hux came up behind Ren- who realised he had sensed his lover approaching. Faintly, but it was there. The Force was slowly coming back to him. Hux leaned over to look at the creature, which let out another gurgle before expiring- and as it did, the world came crashing back in around Ren. He could feel Hux’s energy- the bright, burning silver and white haze- could sense the two ships near the safe-house, and the dead bodies in and outside the building. He could hear everything, his sense of smell was back to its acute strength, and he could _see_ again. He let out a sigh of relief, shuddering, drinking in the feel of Hux’s hand on his shoulder as the General worriedly peered at his wound. 

“Are you okay?” Hux asked. 

“It’s superficial,” Ren replied, still focused on the dead creature. “I’m more concerned with _this_. Is that what I think it is?”

Hux still fussed with the wound a bit, which made Ren feel flustered and pleased, before leaning down and peering at the dead animal. He blinked, his concerned expression turning to that of utter bewilderment.

“That’s a ysalamir,” he said, tilting his head in confusion. “How did they get one? How did they know to use one?”

“A ysalamir?” Ren echoed in disbelief. So it had been as he suspected, but it was still alarming. They were only indigenous to one planet in the whole galaxy, and very few people that didn’t live on that planet knew how to successfully extract them from their habitats without killing them, let alone keep them alive after extraction.

“Here? How?”

Hux stood up. With the ysalamir dead, there was nothing more to do with it. He and Ren stared at the poor dead creature, unsure of the implications of its presence. Ren wouldn’t have believed such a thing if the proof hadn’t been right there in front of him.

“No idea. I know that crime bosses like Talon Karrde and Jorj Car’das were fond of keeping them around, but Car’das is retired- and too far away from Myrkyr to have access to them, and Karrde isn’t _stupid,_ even if he is a smuggler,” Hux said, moving to stroke his chin, but remembering the gore on his hands, he let them drop.

Ren wanted to ask a million more questions- like how Hux knew of Karrde and the infamous Car’das when he’d spent his life in the Unknown Regions, or how Hux knew that Car’das was retired, when Ren himself, having had a smuggler father who had worked with Karrde, hadn’t even known Car’das was still _alive_ , let alone retired. He made the note to ask Hux later. For now, he wanted to go back to the Finalizer and collapse- in Hux’s bed. 

Hux turned and headed back down the stairwell. Ren blinked. 

“What are you doing?”

Hux didn’t stop. 

“Lady Carise. I have to get her body,” he said softly, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. 

“Hux-”

“Hush. I’m getting her body, and we’re taking her home. End of story,” Hux said, disappearing into the darkness below. Ren didn’t move. He could feel Hux wanting to be alone as he saw to her remains.

“Where is ‘home?’” he asked as Hux came up the stairs, Carise’s body in his arms, top half wrapped in his coat. Hux looked tired, and far older than 35 in the low light, bags under sunken eyes, shadows catching in hollows of his cheeks, his mouth drawn tightly, forehead wrinkled as his brows furrowed with mixed emotions. 

“Arkanis,” he said simply, heading for the exit and towards the shuttle. Ren stared after him.

_Hux, we’d be gone for at least a fortnight, we don’t know if it’s possible to slip in to Arkanis without being noticed, we can’t just go running off like this!_

_This is non-negotiable,_ Hux replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. _I brought a change of clothes for both of us to disguise us while on the surface._

_You knew. You knew we’d be going there._

_I expected to rescue an ally and take her home… not bring her back for a funerary pyre, Kylo. I don’t want to return to my homeworld any more than you do, but for the sake of the Order, and the image this risk will give me, I will…. I need to. There will be drastic ramifications from her death while under my protection and attempted rescue, which I suspect was our mystery adversary’s true intent. And in any case… I need to extract my mothers. They’re not safe anymore._

Ren didn’t answer. The pain and fatigue in Hux’s voice was so acute that it left aches in Ren’s mind. He didn’t argue, he didn’t protest. He simply followed the General into the shuttle, and despite his protests, sat in the cockpit, and punched in the parameters for Arkanis, leaving Hux in the back to his emotional turmoil. 

——

The room was warm and dark, wrapping the two occupants in its soft embrace, hiding them from the world around them. Deep in this safe blackness, bare limbs were tangled under fine sheets, long hair tousled or curling over pillows, soft bodies pressed together in the gentle clutches of sleep. 

Aristocra Mitth’ail’inrokini hummed softly in her sleep as her wife stirred, the warm smooth expanse of her back pressing against her chest and stomach. She pulled her closer unconsciously, fingers trailing over the soft dark skin scented with the sweet mellow perfume of Rbollen petal-oil. 

Grand Admiral Rae Sloane sighed, rolling over in Thailin’s arms to nuzzle under her wife’s chin, her nose and lips brushing over the soft blue skin of Thailin’s throat. Their legs entangled once more, and they slept contentedly in the darkness of their room, under the sheets and behind heavy curtains surrounding the large bed. The galaxy around them spun on with its problems, treachery and danger, but here, in their bed, in the depths of sleep, they were together and isolated. Here, Rae felt the First Order, the Ascendancy, politics and trouble couldn’t touch them. 

However, even in Ascendancy space, wrapped in the arms of her Aristocra wife, the ordeals, squabbles and petty problems of the Core and Inner Rim always managed to find her. As was the universe’s way of proving her wrong, her comm-link went off, breaking the darkness with the blue lights of the telltale. 

Rae groaned and sat up, fumbling for the device in the dark. Thailin made a most unhappy sound as her wife pulled away. She flicked the comm-link on, and blinked, squinting against the brightness of the display. In shades of blue, she took in the figure of Armitage. 

“Armitage?” She asked blearily, blinking sleep from her eyes. He looked haggard and tired, circles under his eyes and his hair a mess. He looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry for waking you, I know it’s still night on Copero, but I needed to talk to you,” he said quietly. 

Rae sat up at the pain, fatigue and grief in his voice. She also noticed the blood on his face, the bacta patch on his cheek, and he was splattered in blood. 

“You’re hurt! Armitage, what happened?” she asked, sitting up straighter, her voice more awake. 

“Lady Carise is dead,” he said without preamble. “There was an attempt on my life at the gala I hosted for First Order supporters and Centrists. Lady Carise was killed at the safe house. Ren and I are heading to Arkanis to bring her body home for interment.”

Rae stared at the batcta patch on his cheek. An attempt on his life… How close had he come to dying? How close did the killer come to succeeding?

“Armitage, are you okay?” she asked, sitting up fully, Thailin rubbing her eyes as she came awake by the sounds of distress in her wife’s voice. 

“Ren… he shielded me from a direct hit. He saved my life,” Hux said, touching the patch on his cheek. 

“Who was it,” Rae seethed, her voice a hiss between clenched teeth. Someone had dared attack her son, had hurt him, and she wanted to rip the bastard’s throat out with her bare hands. 

“Gilbore,” Hux said simply. “And no, Mother, you can’t kill him. I already did. With my bare hands.”

Rae felt a measure of pride and relief wash through her, and she relaxed a bit against Thailin, who had slid behind her to lean against her back, blue fingers rubbing at the nape of her neck soothingly. A soft sub-harmonic thrum issued from her throat, and Rae felt her stress diminish considerably- she still couldn’t fully grasp the mechanics behind Chiss speech and the sub-harmonics they used when speaking or by themselves, and she still couldn’t fully understand all the emotions they could convey. Still, she knew this one, and that it was intended for comfort, and she drank it in. 

“That’s my boy,” she said with a small smile. How far he had come from the small, pale and terrified little boy she’d met on the Imperialis. Yet, how close he had come to being lost forever. It made a shudder run through her, but she couldn’t dwell on it long. Armitage had not called for comfort, but to bear bad news. She knew his posture and expressions all too well- however slight they were.

“Carise. Well. That puts a damper on our supply efforts, as well as our best Centrist supporter,” she scowled. Never mind that Carise had been disposed after her not-very-well-thought-out move to expose Leia as the daughter of Lord Vader. She’d been an ‘in,’ and now she was gone. 

“I don’t suppose we’ve got any new political ins as of late,” Rae asked, stifling a yawn now that the adrenaline was fading. 

“Well, Máthair would have… but after this attack, I was calling to ask if she and Maratelle could seek refuge with the Ascendancy until I know who sent Gilbore. Perhaps on the Eclipse,” Hux returned, not quite a question, but clearly a request.

“Of course,” Thailin said before Rae could turn to ask her. “I will personally authorise them to come stay with Rae and myself on Copero.”

Hux’s face remained calm, but there was a flush tingeing his cheeks that was bright enough to translate onto the holo.

“Thank you, Thailin,” he said softly. “I am in your debt.”

The Mitth Aristocra lifted a gracefully arched eyebrow, her glowing eyes glittering as her full mouth curved in a smirk. 

“Oh, finally getting the chance to have Angelica and Maratelle in the same bed with myself and Rae is payment enough.”

Hux groaned and dragged a palm down his face. Rae knew what he was thinking: Why did his mother figures all have to be so forthcoming about their love lives?

“I’d apologise, but I get it from my father,” Thailin said, her smirk turning to a flippant grin. “Syndic Mitth’ras’safis was worse than me sometimes. He and my father often got into silly arguments about him being too open with their love life.”

Armitage was clearly trying to ignore this as well- he’d been shocked when he realised that his step-mother was the niece of Grand Admiral Thrawn himself, and the shock had turned to mortification when he realised how very unlike the Admiral she was. All flippant smiles and cloying words, very unlike Thrawn, who’d been stoic, quiet and observant, not forthcoming with his opinions unless they pertained to the bigger picture. It didn’t mean Thailin wasn’t dangerously smart like her uncle, however. When it was called for, Thailin was just as terrifying, if not more so due to the fact that usually it was hard to take her seriously. No one expected such brilliance and utter fury when it came to the Aristocra’s tactics when she became serious.

After he’d assured her all was well and that he’d find someone to take the spot Carise had once held, he signed off, and Rae stretched back out over the sheets with her wife. Thailin reached out and stroked the white streaks coming from Rae’s temples and out into her beautiful tightly curled hair. 

“Destined for greatness, indeed,” Thailin murmured as she kissed each white streak.

It was believed by the Chiss- who rarely had white or grey in their hair- that a parent who possessed such colours in their tresses, had a child who was exceptional, or destined to do great things. Hux wasn’t Rae’s biological son, but she had raised him, and that was enough to convince Thailin. 

“Mmm,” Rae replied, closing her eyes and turning her face to kiss Thailin. Blue skin caressed brown, fingers ran over curly hair and silky hair as each woman indulged in touching the love of their life. 

Rae had the feeling he’d left something out, that there was more to this than a random assassin, and that Carise had been involved somehow, but she trusted her son, and she trusted that he’d tell her when he sorted it out. 

“He seemed… different,” Thailin said before dipping her head to kiss Rae’s clavicle. 

“You mean aside from an assassination attempt?” Rae retorted, closing her eyes and running fingertips over Thailin’s back, tracing the dip of her spine reverently. 

“He’s not as… tense,” came the murmured reply. “Maybe he finally took my advice and got laid.”

“Thailin, love of my life, you are crass,” Rae laughed into the crook of Thailin’s neck. “Can we not talk about my son like that?”

“Okay, fine, let’s talk about _you_ ,” Thailin replied, rolling over to straddle Rae’s hips. Her blue black hair spilled over her shoulders, and her eyes were glowing intensely in the dark of their room. 

“Oh? What about?” Rae asked innocently, reaching up to grasp her wife’s waist and pulling her flush against her. 

“How brightly you are flushing right now,” Thailin purred, her voice sliding into predominantly low sub-harmonics as she bent down to flick her tongue over a soft brown nipple, humming louder as it pebbled under her touch. She suckled it, gently rolling it with her teeth before releasing it when Rae moaned throatily. 

“And brighter still,” she whispered. “Though I can’t see some of the brighter spots, seeing as I’m sitting on one of them.”

“You tease,” Rae groaned. “Stop fooling around and sit on my face, dammit.”

Thailin grinned, and complied, but her grin disappeared shortly, and her own moans filled the room as Rae put her very experienced mouth to work over the wet slick folds she knew ever so intimately. All worry about the Order, her son, and Carise’s death washed away as she listened to her lover cry out her name- and as Thailin turned around so she could reciprocate.

Rae allowed herself to sink into her relief that her son was well, and her world was still blissfully spinning as it should, the galaxy carrying on as she and Thailin made love in the warm dark of the home they’d built together. It was all too easy to pretend everything was perfect when she and Thailin melted into each other, ignoring everything and everyone but themselves.

———

Ren had been taken aback when Hux quietly asked him to attend the private wake. He had almost wondered if Hux had blamed him at all for Carise’s death, but that seemed not to be the case. Ren had stood a distance away, giving the grieving audience a respectful distance as Hux lit the pyre. 

Carise’s body was dressed in fine silvery silks- the same Senatorial robes she’d worn when she was Lady Sindian of the Elder Houses, and Senator of Arkanis. She was then covered in a matching silver funerary shroud to hide the fact that a sniper had mutilated her body. Despite their mutual pain and hatred for the things, Hux and Angelica had adorned her pyre and body with white flowers, as was the Arkanis tradition- and was common practise to mask the scent of the dead burning. 

Hux stood out from the gaggle of nobility, Centrist politicians and covert First Order supporters- even though they all wore black. He wore a long, black robe with a high collar, long billowing sleeves and sweeping cloak, silver chains hanging between sharply angled shoulders, one bearing a silver medallion stamped with his family’s seal. A black leather belt was cinched around his waist, with similar chains hanging below it. A simple black circlet rested on his slicked back hair, holding a black veil over his face that was dusted in pale white powder that blanched his lips. Black leather bound gloves had clutched the white flowers tightly, breaking the stems as he said his goodbyes. 

It was his stature, the lean cut and harsh angles of his face, the glittering sharp eyes that made him stand out amongst the softer, indulgent nobility, the politicians who didn’t run war machines, rip out the throats of their enemies, or have the audacity to think they could collar and keep someone like Kylo Ren as their own. 

Angelica and Maratelle were dressed similarly to their son, in the same sweeping robes with chains and high collars. A full black veil covered the face of each woman, that was also blanched with powder, their lips painted black, and black filigree jewellery adorned each of their ears, necks and faces. Angelica’s long red hair was pulled into braids woven through with ebony ribbons, coiled into a knot at the back of her head, and Maratelle had her raven-black waves pulled back tightly into an austere bun that was fixed into place with a clip of onyx gems. 

Like her son, Maratelle’s fingers trembled and clutched at the flowers she held in one hand, her other entwined with the delicate hand of Angelica’s- both their hands were shrouded in silk instead of leather. Hux had his mother’s hands, Ren noted, seeing them both long of finger, slim of palm and slim in the wrist. 

Ren had never seen Hux express anything but frustration, anger, rage, or confusion by way of negative emotions. He had never seen him vulnerable, save for when he had watched him sleep, or that moment of stress when he’d bared himself to Ren that night in the shower, showing the Knight all he was. 

This, Ren decided, watching the General of the First Order as he clutched his mother tightly, tears silently pouring down his face as Angelica sobbed openly into his chest, Lady Maratelle pressing her own face into Angelica’s bright red hair to hide her own sobs, was much worse, and he hated it. 

Angelica and Maratelle mourned the loss of a best friend- and Armitage was grieving over betrayal and worry for his mothers, and the inevitable ramifications of Carise’s death. He was also weighed down by the knowledge that he could not say which enemy had pulled the trigger, and he didn’t know if an ally was now a foe.

——

Lying low was Ren’s idea. He’d brushed his concern for Hux and his family off as needing to recover after being exposed to a ysalamir, but Hux had seen right through it- and was grateful, as they used the time to contact Sloane, and arrange an extraction. In the meantime, Maratelle and Angelica hovered between wanting to spend as much time with Hux as possible, seeing as they rarely spent time with him- and had decades of lost time to make up for- and wanting to keep their distance, because they were mildly terrified of Ren. After a slightly awkward dinner, Hux explained the full details of his family to Ren as they settled in for bed. 

Ren had lifted his brow when Hux explained that Maratelle and Angelica had actually been the ones having an affair, and that his own birth was an agreement with Brendol- the chance to sire a son since his wife was infertile, and said wife could continue to see her lover. The two women had happily eloped once it was official that Maratelle was a widow, and Angelica finally shed the cover of “kitchen worker” to become Lady Hux with her wife. When they learned Armitage was alive, well, and happy, it hadn’t taken much to arrange a reunion- and a meeting with Sloane. 

Maratelle reassured her son she would handle everything regarding Carise’s death, that he and Ren didn’t need to leave the estate. Angelica gave Hux a watery smile that had a small amount of roguish charm in it before she went with her wife to handle the fallout.

“Too bad Rae couldn’t come. Maratelle and I are quite fond of her,” she said wistfully. Hux groaned, not wanting to know that all the maternal figures in his life were so intricately bound and involved. 

Hux and Ren stayed on the far end of the estate, in Hux’s old room, while Angelica acquired codes, handled Carise’s estate and will, and fabrication of her cause of death- not a hard thing to do, given that news of the attempt on Hux’s life during a gala was spreading like wildfire. 

Hux vented his worry and frustration through Ren, locking them both in his room and losing himself in Ren’s arms. The first few hours were gentle, and Ren was patient with Hux as he took comfort in his company, in careful, gentle sex. He complied when Hux drew a bath, and the two of them soaked in the oversized tub, up to their shoulders in hot water scented with sandalwood and amber, Hux sitting between Ren’s legs, resting against his chest. 

Ren rested his chin on Hux’s head, arms draped over his shoulders and his hands idly trailing in the water. Hux had his eyes closed, one hand clutching at Ren’s arm, the other resting on his knee. Ren hated to admit it, but he was enjoying the closeness, the warmth they shared, the silence that was helping mend the ache and worry that Hux was radiating. 

_Thank you,_ Hux said quietly as he nestled back against Ren, who was trying to ignore how Hux’s ass was pressing against his cock. He distracted himself by reaching up and running fingers through Hux’s damp hair. 

_Are you okay?_

_I will be,_ he replied, turning around between Ren’s legs, moving his own to wrap around the Knight’s waist. 

He rocked his hips, rubbing his groin against Ren’s cock, his own already hard. Ren kissed Hux hungrily, nudging his cock against Hux’s cunt eagerly as Hux threaded arms around his neck, biting at his lower lip. He continued rocking his hips, water splashing gently over both of them as he worked Ren’s cock into him, sinking down with a sigh.

_Take me to bed?_

Ren stood, water sluicing from both of them, Hux clinging to him like a burr, and got out of the tub, carrying his lover to bed. For the third time in less than five hours, they fucked, but unlike the first two times, Hux rode Ren as he had before, and with the biting teeth and clawing nails Ren had been craving. With practised ease, Hux brought Ren close to the brink, and as the taller man clutched at Hux’s hips, about to explode, Hux stopped and got off him. 

Ren gaped at him, cock twitching as he lay on the bed, watching Hux clean himself up and don his bathrobe. 

_What...what are you doing? Where are you going? I was-_

_I know you were about to come,_ Hux replied, rummaging through his wardrobe and pulling various silk scarves from a drawer. Frivolous attire of nobility, but Ren knew exactly what their purpose was this time as Hux approached the bed. 

“Up.”

The command had a tone that left no room for argument. Ren was off the bed instantly, only to be pushed to his knees at the foot of it. Hux gently, but firmly bound his hands behind him, tied his ankles together, then fashioned a collar of one of the scarves. 

“I ought to get you a proper collar,” Hux purred softly as he took another length of silk and used it to tie Ren to the bedpost. Ren swallowed. He was equally terrified and turned on by the thought of having Hux collar him. 

“Are you okay with being gagged and blindfolded?” Hux asked, holding more soft silk in his hands. “I intend to go get us something to eat, and leave you here to think about me while I’m gone. If you’re good, I’ll feed you, and let you come.”

Now this was what Ren had been interested in, hoping that Hux would try these things with him, and he nodded. Hux kissed him deeply, running fingers through damp hair before pulling it to tilt his head back. He balled up a piece of silk and stuffed it in Ren’s mouth, then used the last scarf to blindfold him. 

They both knew Ren wouldn’t truly be blind- not with the Force, but it was still erotic, being bound and gagged, on his knees, with a raging erection, close to coming. Ren was beyond turned on, and was excited. Hux stroked his cheek, murmuring softly in reassurance before leaving the room, leaving Ren alone with his throbbing cock, the feeling of silk on bare skin, and the knowledge of just how vulnerable he was, despite Hux being a few rooms away. He was also more than capable of tearing the fragile fabric, but it was the principle of the situation that had him aroused.

His cock ached, his balls tight and stomach hot with the need for release. His cock drooled, precome dribbling down his shaft, the cool air chilling his shaft and balls where his fluids dampened his skin. He made a small sound against his gag, twisting a bit- he’d never been so aroused in his life. He only hoped Hux would return soon and let him come. 

Hux returned in less than fifteen minutes, carrying a tray. He sat beside Ren on the floor, crooning his name and stroking his hair gently as he removed the gag. Ren nuzzled into his hand despite himself, and Hux purred in satisfaction. 

“Good boy,” he praised him. “I brought us lunch.”

He took his time, lifting fruit, soft cheese, roasted poultry, pieces of bread, all in small bites, to Ren’s lips, feeding him little by little. Ren, not even realising how hungry he was, took each bit eagerly, licking Hux’s fingers clean after each bite. Hux smiled, taking bites for himself with his free hand as he fed his lover. 

“Good?”

Ren nodded. It was all the more intimate, erotic, having Hux feed him by hand while he was blindfolded. He sensed through scent what Hux was feeding him, but not being able to physically see it was oddly stimulating- especially when Hux pushed his fingers into his mouth, a silent command to have Ren lick them clean after each bite. Hux purred again and held a cup of wine against Ren’s lips, helping him drink. 

“Good boy,” he said again, moving to kiss Ren’s throat as it undulated from swallowing the wine. He nipped at the skin before pushing the tray away, then moved to gently run fingers along the sticky trail Ren’s precome had left over his shaft. Ren whined low in his throat.

“You made a mess,” Hux murmured, moving to untie Ren from the bedpost. He left his arms and legs bound, and gently turned him so he was face down, ass in the air thanks to his bent knees. He tucked a pillow under his lover’s head, and removed the blindfold.

“What-”

“Shhh. Just let me know if you don’t like this, okay?” Hux reassured him, taking a long sip from a glass of water, rinsing out his mouth.

He knelt behind Ren, and carefully spread his glutes, fingers working gently over his ass, his perineum and balls, then down his shaft. Ren shuddered, letting out a moan. 

“Okay?” Hux asked, resting hands on Ren’s ass.

Ren nodded, making a grunt of confirmation that he was indeed enjoying it, as he pushed back into Hux’s touch. Hux prodded gently at his anus with a fingertip, circling the ring of muscle ever so gently. Ren jerked, a gasp escaping him. 

“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Hux said, his voice serious. “Use your safeword if you need to.”

He paused.

_When do you use your safeword, Kylo?_

_Wh-when I need to,_ Ren managed. 

_Good boy._

Hux licked his fingers, and then repeated the motion, slick digits circling and tracing, teasing the entrance to Ren’s ass. Ren moaned, pressing back further, encouraging Hux, who pressed his fingertip firmly against his anus, wiggling it carefully and enjoying the sounds coming from Ren’s throat.

“Good boy,” he crooned aloud this time, then lowered himself further, and began trailing kisses over his ass, his balls. His tongue darted out, flicking at Ren’s perineum, and Ren shuddered, his entire body shaking as he suspected what was coming next. 

Hux hummed against Ren’s balls, then extended his tongue and with a long, slow lick, ran it from the tip of the leaking shaft, up his tight balls, over his perineum, then against and around his anus. Ren let out a shocked cry at the sensation of Hux’s tongue circling and flicking against him, the muscle tightening involuntarily. 

_Tell me if you don’t like it,_ Hux repeated, gently probing with his tongue, working it over, and slowly, into his ass. 

Ren was clawing at his palms, toes curling as he panted into the pillow. So perverse, unthinkable- at least to him, with his meagre experience, but it felt _so good,_ having Hux fuck him with his tongue. He hadn’t ever considered being penetrated, especially since Hux preferred being penetrated himself, but now… _oh stars._

Ren’s throaty moans and cries only egged Hux on as he worked his tongue all the way into his ass, and added a finger once his anus was wet enough. In a matter of moments, between the curling of his fingers, the licking, probing of his tongue, he found Ren’s prostate. Carefully, _ever so lightly_ , he brushed his fingertip against it, and felt Ren stiffen, a sharp cry coming from him- and the windows of the room shuddered in their frames. 

Hux pulled back, sensing Ren was close to coming, and withdrew his finger, but kept languidly licking and kissing at Ren’s ass, his free hand gently running over the Knight’s cock. Ren whimpered, straining against his bonds.

_Hux… please._

His cock was freely drooling at this point, soaking Hux’s hand, and his balls were throbbing, tight. Hux slid a finger back into his ass and again, gently stroked his prostate- only to pull back when he felt orgasm approaching. Ren let out a choked sound, biting the pillow. Hux gave Ren’s ass a gentle slap, waiting for a few moments before twisting his tongue inside him, and gave his prostate a third gentle touch. 

_Armitage, PLEASE! Please let me come!_ Ren cried, a sob escaping him as his cock twitched and jerked in Hux’s hand. Hux smiled. 

_Good boy. Good boy, Kylo,_ Hux soothed him, and this time, as he stroked over Ren’s cock, his tongue twisting again, and his fingers pressing against his tormented prostate, he didn’t pull away. Ren made a sound that was inhuman, and _loud_ , his body nearly convulsing as he shot semen onto the floor, and the closest windows shattered. 

Hux, caught up in how compliant, how desperate Ren was, locked with him mentally as Ren pulled him into his arousal-blinded mind, found himself feeling echoes, shades of Ren’s orgasm rippling through him. He saw the pillow under his cheek, felt his own tongue in his ass, a finger against a prostate he didn’t have, and for a moment, he felt semen shooting from a cock that wasn’t his. Hux let out a cry of his own and he slumped against his lover, overwhelmed by what had just happened. 

It took them both a good while to recover- nearly fifteen minutes passed before either was able to sit up, or even move. When Hux finally stirred and began untying the scarves, Ren let out a shaky sigh, letting Hux untie him before dragging his lover back into the bed, pulling Hux on top of him. 

_That. Was. Amazing._

_You… you pulled me into your orgasm,_ Hux managed, listening to Ren’s heartbeat. Ren grunted, wiping at his face- he’d actually cried when Hux finally let him come. Hux made no comment on the tears, but radiated pleasure all the same at seeing them.

_I projected. Didn’t mean to._

_I’m not complaining,_ Hux said quietly, running a finger over Ren’s clavicle. _It was incredible._

Ren purred, closing his eyes. 

_Thank you._

_For what?_ Hux asked, folding his arms on Ren’s chest, resting his chin on them. Ren shifted under him, getting comfortable. 

_For being patient, gentle, but still indulging my wants while acknowledging my needs and experience- or lack thereof,_ Ren replied. Hux hummed, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from Ren’s face. 

_I would be a horrible dominant if I didn’t get your consent in everything I do with and to you, Kylo._

Hux sighed at the broken glass on the floor on the other side of the room.

_Going to have to repair that window, though. My mothers will be furious._

Ren laughed. 

_Is this what being a teenager is supposed to be like?_

Hux grinned back at him, enjoying the sound of his laughter, and he shoved at Ren’s forehead with the heel of his palm, pushing his head back against the pillows. Ren wrapped his arms around Hux tighter, and rolled them over, pinning the General down and nipping at his neck. 

_Now who’s acting like a teenager?_ Hux shot at him playfully, wrestling to get out from underneath him, genuine laughter issuing from his throat as Ren continued nipping and kissing at his neck, determined to leave marks. 

_We both are- let’s see how many hickies I can give you before you mothers come home…_

_-_

Angelica said nothing, but her lifted brows said more than her voice could have as she pointedly looked at her son’s neck, where a very impressive bruise was blooming. Hux tugged at his shirt, wishing he’d brought something with a higher collar- not to hide it from his mother, but because the staff would stare. Maratelle, however, had no compunction about bringing it out into the open.

“So you two...”

“It’s complicated,” Hux replied, taking a pointed sip of tea.

Angelica sighed and took a delicate bite of her sandwich. Her eyes were tired, and her face was still etched with sorrow. Hux reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. 

“Her last thoughts were of you, Mother. Both of you” he said softly. She closed her eyes. 

“They would have been, wouldn’t they?” She sighed. “To think we would lose our best friend like this...”

She slid her hand from under his and grasped it tightly.

“Promise me,” she said suddenly, her voice tight. “That if you think you might be in mortal danger by going into a situation, you’ll reconsider, and come home.”

Hux winced. This again.

“Máthair, we talked about this, I’m-”

“I don’t _care_ if you’re a General!” She snapped. “You’re hardly Grand Marshall anymore, and how long now has Snoke denied you the rank and privilege you once had and still deserve? It’s not worth dying for. Not for that… _thing.”_

 _“Máthair, be **still**_ **,”** Hux hissed softly. Ren was getting dressed in the next room, but he didn’t want to risk Ren turning against his mother. 

“You listen to me, Armitage,” Angelica bit out. “I have grown up losing everyone and everything I’ve ever loved. First the Imperials take my sister, then my parents are sent to Kessel for daring to ask about their taken daughter. I lose my family, then my home, and grow up working as a kitchen maid. I meet the love of my life, only to be threatened with the same death sentence as my parents- unless I allow a disgusting man to flop about on top of me.”

Her eyes filled with tears as Hux flinched at the last, and she cupped his cheek with her soft palm. 

“I had you, and though I loathed your father, I didn’t regret you. Not for an instant. You were- you _**are**_ \- the best thing in my life, and when Rax had you taken from me that day, I thought I’d lost you, too.”

Her eyes hardened. 

“You already had someone try to kill you on your way back from your last summit here, and it nearly killed me with worry. I won’t lose you. Not to that creature. If you think the Order is no longer yours, no longer what you worked for it to be, and that your life is in danger, you come home. We’ll flee, and start over. I would rather live in the middle of nowhere than lose you or Maratelle again.”

The tears spilled from her hard eyes as she closed them, grief written on her face.

“I’ve lost enough, Armitage.”

“I can’t make that promise, Máthair. You know that.”

“Will you try? For me?”

Hux sighed. Guilt twisted his gut as he gave his mother a small smile- and lied through his teeth.

“I will. For you- if you answer some questions about Lady Carise for me.”

Placated or defeated, Hux wasn’t sure, Angelica wiped her eyes and nodded. Hux picked up a cloth napkin and dabbed at a tear still on her cheek.

“… did she talk to you before the gala?” Hux asked. Angelica frowned, tilting her head. 

“Why do you ask, Armitage?”

Hux swallowed and gripped her hand tight. 

“Kylo… he pulled a memory of her talking to you, where you told her to give me a flower during the gala- which she did, and right after, someone attempted to kill me. A sniper.”

Angelica reached up and touched the bacta patch on her son’s cheek, her grey-green eyes wide. Her fingers trembled as they peeled back the patch and revealed the stitches in his skin.

“Stars… Armitage,” she murmured, her voice shaking with the realisation she’d nearly lost her son after only getting him back so recently. Maratelle, coming into the dining with a new plate of sandwiches, set them down and sat beside Angelica. She took her wife’s hands in hers and kissed the backs of her palms to soothe her. 

“Kylo saved my life,” Hux said quietly. “Phasma caught the assassin- it was Gilbore.”

“Mildred Gilbore’s son?” Angelica asked incredulously, eyes going wide again. Hux nodded. Maratelle frowned.

“Wasn’t she rumoured to be making a cuckhold of her husband with… what was his name? Book?”

“Brooks,” Hux said, biting back a smirk. “The one I killed later for his mutinous decisions. But yes, Gilbore. Ren pulled memories from his head, as well- that he’d talked to Carise. Máthair… did you tell her to give me a flower?”

Angelica exchanged a glance with Maratelle before she shook her head.

“Son, why would I have asked that of her? We all know that her- her funeral aside, flowers have no place in this estate.”

Hux sighed. 

“Did she go anywhere before the gala? Off-world? I know after what she pulled with Organa-Solo and Casterfo, she didn’t go back to Coruscant or Chandrila very often.”

Angelica slid her hands out of her wife’s and stood. She folded her hands behind her and began to pace, cracking her knuckles as she did so. Hux and Maratelle exchanged a look, and Hux bit back a small smile- his urge to pace was something he inherited from her, something she couldn’t suppress by curling her nails into her palms like her son did. She couldn’t think while sitting still- ‘Have to get the gears moving to get the mind going,’ she often joked. 

“A year ago… she went away for two weeks. Then six months ago, she was gone for another fortnight....and she went away for a week before the gala.”

She turned to face Hux, her long black robe swirling about her ankles- she and Maratelle would be wearing her mourning garb for at least a month, Hux knew. Her face was twisted in pain as she approached her son and took his hands again. 

“Son… Armitage, do you think she was betraying the Order?”

“No,” Hux said as firmly as he could, but he didn’t know what to believe- only that he didn’t know what was going on. He trusted his mother, not the memory Carise had had. He knew his aunt had been ambitious, but never enough to have her nephew killed in the name of her ambition. 

“Someone planted that memory, Mother.”

Angelica frowned. 

“Who could have done such a thing? Chemical rewiring, like Castellan Conditioning, hasn’t been used since the days of the Old Republic and the old Galactic Empire,” Maratelle said sharply. Hux shook his head.

“I don’t know, Mother. I just know that something isn’t right.”

He didn’t feel right, telling her he suspected that it was planted there by the Force- the idea was still a little too much, even to him, despite the fact that it wouldn’t stop gnawing at his head. The last thing he needed was either of his mothers having even an inkling of fear or apprehension towards Ren. If things went sour, and he needed Ren to protect them, he couldn’t afford to have them shying away from him. 

“You’ll figure it out, Armitage. You’re a brilliant young man.”

Hux smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Thank you, Mother.” 

Ren came into the dining room, wearing the casual wear that Hux had given him- a high collared black tunic that fell to his knees, with slim fitting sleeves, cinched with a leather belt, and tight black breeches with knee high boots. His mask was off, and his hair was combed, falling around his face in glossy waves.

Angelica paused, staring at Ren. She’d only seen him in his armour, with his mask. She was clearly as taken aback as her son had been when he’d first seen the man without the helmet. Ren gave a slight bow, inclining his head as he folded an arm behind him- a graceful gesture reminiscent of time spent in politics, and Maratelle’s eyes flashed with recognition- she _knew_. 

_She knows just from looking at me_ , Ren said quietly. _An astute woman._

 _And smart enough not to say anything_ , Hux replied, almost too quickly. Ren brushed Hux’s mind gently, reassuringly. 

_I am no danger to your mothers, Armitage._

“Since he finally has his mask off,” Hux said with a soft smile, “Mother, Máthair, this is Kylo Ren.”

“Lady Angelica, Lady Maratelle,” Ren said, his voice low as he straightened. Angelica smiled at him, but Maratelle fixed him with a stare that actually gave Ren pause.

“You treat my son right, or I’ll convince Bothawui’s government that you owe them money,” she said simply.

Ren stared, taken by surprise, then chuckled softly as he caught Hux’s horrified expression. 

“Mother, please...”

“It’s okay, Armitage,” Ren said, lips curling in a smirk. “I deserve it for shattering the windows.” 

Hux groaned and covered his face with his hands.

-

Maratelle and Angelica proved to be hard pressed to flee Arkanis. Neither would leave when there was already talk amongst the Centrist supporters that Carise’s death had been the result of being too close to the First Order. After a night of furious arguing that only ended with Ren saying quietly that he would leave some of his Knights as bodyguards until they were ready to leave, did they start working on an arrangement.

On the surface, Hux appreciated Ren’s offer, but having his mothers guarded by the Knights of Ren put him at a level of unease he couldn’t explain- and one he would not explain, even with Ren pressing at his mind in frustration. Hux deflected, saying that he couldn’t afford to use his Knights and risk the ire of Snoke, should he need them. Ren reluctantly agreed, but was clearly put off. 

Hux counter offered with one of his best agents- Agent Lachlan Kersyva, a loyalty officer and cipher agent with a state-of-the-art Corvette with cloaking devices, turbolasers and even ion cannons. He trusted Kersyva with his mother’s lives- he did not trust the Knights. The _Venatrix_ was a bonus. Maratelle and Angelica seemed much more comfortable with a trained infiltrator and combat capable agent whose very job involved getting in and out of tough situations unscathed. They promised once things were settled, they would have Kersyva take them to Sloane.

The issue finally settled, Hux reluctantly bid his mothers goodbye, and he and Ren returned to the Finalizer in the dead of night. Both were a bit better for wear, physically, at least, but the time they’d spent together was slowly forgotten as their discussion turned to arguing in Hux’s quarters. 

Tension was rising between them as they discussed the events of the gala, the memories, the death of Carise. Hux argued that the memories were a plant, that Carise had been seeing someone who had fabricated the memories for some nefarious purpose, and she was killed because she was no longer necessary, and because her death would alienate him from allies she’d connected him with. Ren paced as Hux made the argument that it may have been Force influenced, anger roiling from him.

“Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I do. Chemical conditioning, reprogramming has been a lost science for a while- the Old Republic and Galactic Empire dealt away with it when their SIS and Imperial Intelligence agents became unstable due to the conditioning,” Hux replied. “That or they managed to revolt and caused serious upheaval in the system.”

Hux shuddered as he remembered Kersyva telling him about the infamous Cipher Nine, a Chiss agent who’d gone rogue and caused the Old Galactic Empire’s Intelligence many issues, much pain, and even the death of more than one Sith Lord, Jedi Master and major politicians out of revenge for his ruined life. The Ascendancy had tales about him, too- former Secret Police Exiled to work for the Empire after a scandal that even Thailin wouldn’t speak of in detail, though she did mention the agent taking a Sith Lord as a wife and fleeing to the edges of the galaxy to retire in peace.

“Who else would have, could have done that, Hux?” Ren said, coming to a halt and looking straight at Hux. “The implications of what you’re suspecting aren’t comforting.”

“You aren’t the only Force users in the galaxy, Ren,” Hux pointed out. “There are still Jedi left.”

“They’re in hiding- I’ve been hunting them down,” Ren snarled. “And that’s not in their code, even for self defence. The only non-Jedi Force user that is possibly still alive is Vader’s former padawan, Ahsoka Tano, and she disappeared after the Battle of Endor, rumoured to be looking for a lost padawan. She was still practically a Jedi in any case.”

He paced again a few times before stopping in front of Hux.

“Are you thinking one of my Knights did this?”

“No.”

Ren was silent, his eyes searching Hux’s, his expression pleading.

“Are you thinking I did it? Or that I’m lying to you?”

Hux’s face softened, his brow furrowing as he reached out and touched Ren’s face.

“No. I trust you.”

“Then why do you think it’s the influence of the Force? Of a Force user?”

“How else could it be done in such detail? Even if there was chemical overrides, the details wouldn’t be as precise, there would be personality changes, memory gaps, instability. This isn’t a chemical influence.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“I just said I trust you, Kylo!” Hux retorted. 

“You don’t trust the Force- which is a part of me, part of who and what I am. I can’t change that, Hux. It can’t turn it off, or make it go away,” he seethed. 

“I trust you, I let you in my bed, my mind, I have trusted you with my life, Kylo,” Hux said softly. 

“Yet you still think-” he paused, his eyes widening.

_You think Snoke did it._

Hux recoiled. Despite his hatred for the creature, despite his ambitions, he knew where to draw the line, he knew what went from covetous ambition and seditious treason that would get him executed.

“No. I don’t fully trust the Force, but I would never think that,” he insisted. “And in any case, after what he does to you, you defend him? Why? Because of the Force? Do you still need training to control it badly?”

Ren stiffened.

“I put my life in your hands, gave you my dignity, let you dominate me, yet you don’t trust the very thing that makes me who I am,” he said quietly. “Despite everything that I’ve shown you, that I’m more than a blindly swinging weapon.”

“I’m a mortal man, Kylo!” Hux snapped, getting to his feet. “I don’t have this insight, this sixth sense, no preternatural abilities, I’m a pawn for the Supreme Leader, and I’m losing loved ones because of it, because something is manipulating everything around me. No, I can’t trust it. I trust _you,_ but as a whole, no, I can’t trust the Force.”

Ren was quiet, various unreadable emotions warring across his face. 

“Then you don’t accept me, you don’t trust me. You can’t take a Knight of Ren, a Sith, a Jedi, and say you trust them, but not the Force. I’m not me without the Force. I can’t help an incident of birth.”

“Is this about the Force, or has Snoke conditioned you the way I condition my troopers, Kylo?” Hux asked softly. “Is that why you’re saying I don’t trust you? Because you physically, mentally, cannot bring yourself to think that Snoke is trying to slowly remove me from the picture, even when there is evidence that suggests otherwise?”

Ren was quiet, trembling, then he put his mask back on and headed for the door. Hux called after him.

“After the sabotage. I heard what he said. What _you_ said.”

Hux’s voice wavered at the last, and Ren paused, feeling the hurt radiating from Hux’s mind. 

“I have worth, and I am not weak. I am _patient._ My worth is the fact that despite attempts to do so, Snoke cannot replicate my program _without me_ as the focal point for conditioning. Without me, the troopers aren’t centred, are unfocused, and Snoke cannot put himself in my place. I am _irreplaceable_ and _vital_ ,” he said softly. 

“So he keeps me around until what? Some unknown threshold is reached? Some unknown number? And then I’m disposed of, destroyed. It’s how it is with things like him, like Palpatine, like Vitiate from the days of the Old Galactic Empire. Pathetic mortal men without the use of the Force only kept as fodder, tools, then disposed of once they serve their purpose.”

Hux narrowed his eyes.

“I _am_ the First Order, Ren, and I will not be tossed away, I will not be a footnote in my own history. I am not _weak. **I am patient.”**_

As if he’d heard nothing of Hux’s impassioned monologue, Ren went to the door. He tried to ignore the pain in Hux’s voice as he brought up the question of his worth, being called weak. 

“All of me, or none of me, General. Figure it out.”

“He’ll dispose of you, too, once he’s gotten what he wants of you,” Hux said, making Ren pause again. “There’s a whole order of the Knights of Ren, after all. Just like it doesn’t matter that the Order is of my design, my inheritance, my _right_ , and never mind I _was_ Grand Marshall, it doesn’t matter that you’re the ‘Master’ of the Knights of Ren. It doesn’t matter that you’re the grandson of the ‘Chosen One.’ You’re nothing but fodder and he’ll dispose of you, too.”

Ren ground his teeth audibly, and almost turned to face Hux, but the soft, barely audible whisper- and mental _whimper_ , and actual _whimper_ from _Armitage Hux-_ stopped him in his tracks. 

_“I wouldn’t dispose of you. You aren’t a tool to be cast aside. Not to me. Not anymore, not after what we’ve been through together.”_

_Then why can’t you trust me?_

_Because I don’t understand the Force. Because you’re biased and conditioned. Because your loyalty is with Snoke. Despite everything we’ve been through together, despite how I don’t turn you into an incoherent, pain addled mess, despite how vulnerable I’ve been in your presence, I don’t have that loyalty._

A very long, heavy silence hung between them, and Ren could _feel_ Hux shudder.

_And because that scares me._

It was too much for Ren. He left the room, leaving Hux to his thoughts, deafening silence, and the suddenly painful sensation of being alone in his head. And he didn’t answer Hux’s questions. Hux stripped, and went to his bed, face-planting into his pillows. Overcome by the events of the past week- nearly dying and now, unsure of what was going on that had his family dragged into a mess he didn’t understand, a wedge being drawn between himself and his allies, cutting off his support slowly, but surely…

Hux screamed into his pillow. Sleep wouldn’t come. 


	15. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo gets jealous, Hux gets furious. An ultimatum, an offer, and a compromise are offered and met. Kylo gets collared and pegged and loves it, and later finds a lead on some interesting information about Hux's family.

The training room was almost empty this time of day, most of the crew on liberty or starting the later shifts. The sole occupants were Hux, Phasma, and a diminutive TIE fighter pilot. The latter two were squaring off, engaging in some sparring as Hux watched from where he was doing stretches.

Maetra had certainly left an impression on Hux the night she'd controlled the crowd to keep Gilbore from escaping. It seemed she'd made a better impression on Phasma, as the two were now inseparable, constantly seen together when not on shift.

Maetra's size was deceptive—despite her short stature and lithe build, under her uniform her muscles were toned to perfection, and her reflexes were superb. She held her own against her much larger girlfriend, and Hux had the suspicion that Maetra's capabilities were part of the appeal that had Phasma so smitten.

“You know,” Phasma said, ducking to avoid a _very_ high kick from Maetra, and countering with her own low sweep at her lover’s feet- a manoeuvre that Maetra avoided with quick footwork. “You should find someone to spar with, instead of simply sitting there doing stretches.”

“I’m not in the mood to spar, Phasma,” he replied. He moved to rest his weight on his arms, swinging his hips and legs up, pointing one leg straight out, the other crooking over his hips as he balanced on his forearms. Maetra and Phasma snorted.

“More yoga. You must be stressed. Again. A good sparring would get that out of your system, Hux,” Phasma said as she blocked a flurry of attacks from Maetra’s wrapped fists.

“I’m fine,” Hux said, his eyes on the datapad just on the edge of his mat, within reach of his fingertips and in his line of sight. If he was going to hold this position for a while, he might as well be productive.

Phasma sighed, seeing Hux still working, and Maetra lunged at her, taking advantage of her lover’s distraction, sending them both crashing to the mat with a triumphant cackle. Phasma laughed, a low, throaty and delighted sound, and she wrapped her arms around Maetra, rolling them over. Hux ignored them- and the pang of jealousy- as Phasma planted a rather obnoxious kiss on Maetra’s neck as the smaller woman laughed. Normally, Phasma would never have indulged in such a public display, but she was obviously comfortable doing so when it was just Hux in the room.

“Come drink with us, Hux,” Phasma said as she and Maetra got up.

“We’re going to the officer’s lounge tonight. Maybe some socialising would cheer you up, sir,” Maetra added. “...Dash was interested in seeing you again.”

Hux looked up with a small smile, despite his attempt to stop it. Dashelle- Maetra’s gunner. A tall, gorgeous man with the build of a swimmer, long braided hair, gorgeous dark skin, and eyes like sable. Hux had first seen him after they had a drill where Hux had watched them- and had been impressed with how pilot and gunner had worked in perfect synchrony. Later, Maetra formally introduced them, when she, Phasma, Hux and Dash had dinner in the officer’s lounge. Nothing had come of it- Hux hadn’t been keen on taking anyone else to his room, but he _had_ enjoyed the other man’s company. Dash was charming, easy going and had a sharp dry sense of humour.

“So is that a yes?” Phasma asked, eyes sparkling with humour. Hux nodded, but didn’t move from his position- his back and abs were stretched deliciously and he wasn’t going to move just yet.

“What time, then?”

“Seventeen-hundred hours,” Phasma replied. Hux nodded again.

“See you there, then.”

Phasma waved at him, and she and Maetra left the training room. Maetra leaned against Phasma’s side.

“He’s still shaken from the gala, isn’t he?” she asked softly. Phasma shrugged a shoulder, her other arm around the smaller woman’s shoulders.

“I think he and Ren had another falling out. They were actually getting along for a bit there, then they just… stopped talking. The bridge has so much tension when they’re on it together, you can cut it with a dull vibroblade,” Phasma said quietly. “I’m glad you introduced him to Dash, though. It’s helped his mood.”

“It’s helped Dash, too, even if he’s become insufferable in the cockpit, Mr ‘The _GENERAL_ thinks my jokes are funny,’” Maetra laughed.

The two women halted as Ren crossed their path, his mask turned in their direction. Phasma nodded at him, and Maetra regarded him with an odd look. Ren had his mask turned in both their direction, but Phasma had the feeling he was focused on Maetra.

“Lord Ren,” Maetra said, her voice oddly flat. Ren didn’t reply.

“The officers are drinking in the lounge tonight at seventeen-hundred hours if you’d like to join us, Ren,” Phasma said, though her tone suggested she didn’t expect him to come- the invitation was made to be polite- or perhaps as a warning to avoid the lounge, and by extension, an awkward situation. Ren held his stare a moment, then swept off towards the training room. Phasma sighed, and Maetra snorted.

“Why’d you invite him?”

“I don’t think he’ll show,” Phasma replied as she steered them both towards her quarters. “Did it to be polite.”

Maetra shot a look over her shoulder at Ren’s retreating figure.

“Should we go back? He didn’t look happy, and the General is still in there...”

“Hux is a big boy,” Phasma snickered. “He doesn’t need us to protect him, and I’m not here to help him deal with whatever drama is going on between him and Lord Tantrum. Besides, I have a girlfriend to clean the sweat off of.”

Maetra grinned.

“Yes, ma’am.”

\-----

Ren stopped at the door to the training room and swallowed, seeing Hux with his body contorted, legs in the air, resting on his arms, idly reading a datapad- working, even when exercising. He cleared his throat, and Hux twitched only slightly, but didn’t drop position.

“Yes?” He asked. His voice was even, no animosity, but no recognition, either. All business.

“I will be gone on a mission,” Ren announced. “I leave tomorrow, and will not be back for at least three months.”

“Very well,” Hux replied, not looking at the Knight. “The Base should be completed by the time you return. We can discuss with the Supreme Leader on when to use the weapon when you get back.”

That was it. Nothing else. No further exchange, no questions, nothing. Ren blinked, unsure what he’d been expecting, what he’d wanted, but he did know he wanted more than a casual acknowledgement and a cold dismissal. Hux looked up at him again.

“Will that be all?”

Ren tensed.

 _Nothing to say? Are we just forgetting it, then?_ He demanded.

Hux blinked at him almost slowly, like a cat who’d been interrupted in the middle of a nap.

 _You were the one who decided I didn’t trust you_ , Hux replied. _You were the one who left. Not me._

 _You don’t trust me, though_ , Ren retorted. Hux blinked slowly again, his mouth twitching.

_I told you. I trust you. I don’t trust what’s going on around me, and there’s something involving the Force that makes me distrustful of it._

_And I told you, that the Force is part of me, it is me, and you can’t trust me without having some faith in it, or you don’t have faith in me. It’s like you’re saying you can’t trust me to remain myself_ , Ren spat back.

The truth was, he missed Hux. Sorely. More than he wanted to admit. Or maybe it was the sex, the intimacy, the ability to be vulnerable without fear of having it taken advantage of. He knew he definitely missed being praised- Hux was the only one who would lavish such things on him. If he could, he’d admit he actually liked waking in the middle of the night, feeling Hux’s presence beside him, hearing the soft, slow rhythm of his breathing, the weight of his body on the bed next to him, his warmth. The presence of a man who treated him as an equal, a fellow human being, and not a weapon.

He’d _never_ admit that during those nights, he’d roll over and press his ear to Hux’s chest or back, and listen to his heartbeat. He’d never admit that the nightmares that woke him were often chased away by the strong, steady thrum of Hux’s heartbeat. He wouldn’t even admit to himself that those silent moments in the dead of night where they were both so vulnerable, were those he missed and cherished the most- even more than the sex, the control, the praise. Just knowing the heartbeat of the man next to him was a constant reminder, a reassurance that there was one person he could be vulnerable with- and one who had, until recently, been comfortable being vulnerable with him.

The only problem was, Kylo Ren was a weapon, like it or not, and Hux was shying away from the edge of the blade, while claiming to love the sword itself.

Hux simply looked back at him, emotions warring in his mind, reflected in his eyes. Ren caught the whispers of regret, of longing- Hux missed him, too, but there was no way past this impasse that either could see.

With a final sound of frustration, Ren turned and left the room.

He had been reflecting on it for a while- he realised he’d been hard on Hux. The man had been attacked twice, lost a family friend, had been reminded painfully of his past by a tormentor long thought gone, and he’d committed acts of explosive violence. Hux had been raw, vulnerable, and exposed- and Ren had ignored that in favour of his wounded pride. There was also the fact that, despite the training, his own form of conditioning that made the thought almost physically hurt, Ren couldn’t help but admit Hux wasn’t paranoid. The evidence of nefarious workings were there, but it wasn’t concrete, conclusive enough for Ren to share Hux’s opinion.

 _Still,_ he thought bitterly to himself. _I can’t help who I am, what I am._

He felt stirrings in the back of his mind, and he reconsidered Phasma’s invitation. Perhaps catching Hux in a social situation, loosened with some drinks, would be a better time to approach him before he left for his mission. Ren steeled himself.

Yes, cleaning himself up, getting into the nicer armour, and approaching Hux when he was feeling and being sociable might be a better time to try to bridge the gap between them. He headed to his room, determined. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing… but Hux was… unlike anyone he’d ever met. He at least wanted to be able to talk to the General without feeling knives in his chest.

\---------

Maetra laughed as Mitaka stumbled over his words, nearly spilling his drink as he talked, hands motioning wildly. The Lieutenant had locked eyes with Dashelle, and when the gunner gave him a brilliant smile, the shorter man had ceased to function properly.

“I thought we were going to try to get Dash into Hux’s bed, not Mitaka’s,” she murmured to Phasma, canted her helmeted head- she was cleverly drinking her Raava Martini through a straw that angled up under the opening of her helmet and into it so it was near her mouth.

“Why not both? There’s plenty of Dash for both of them,” she said softly with a grin.

Hux, overhearing, shot them a Look, but said nothing, going back to sipping his brandy, a cigarra dangling from the fingers of his free hand.

Phasma was as ever, in her chrome, looking resplendent beside Maetra, who had replaced the jodhpurs with a knee length skirt, her legs looking supple in the heels that were almost out of regulations. Her hair was done up in curls around her face, lips painted with a dark blood red lipstick, eyes smoky and dramatic.

Hux was in his usual uniform, his greatcoat folded over the back of his chair. His eyes were watching Dash as he flirted openly with Mitaka, and he seemed pleased- and resignedly relieved- as he made no motion to stop the courtship going on between the two men.

“You’re in a better mood,” Phasma commented as she sipped at her drink, Maetra tilting her Twistler back elegantly. Hux shrugged, trying not to let his amusement show as Phasma sipped through the straw shoved under her helmet. Really, the woman was too damned attached to that thing sometimes, but they all had their quirks.

“Just enjoying the environment,” he replied. “I like seeing my officers getting along.”

The companionable chatter died down, however, as Ren stepped into the lounge. Hux blinked. Ren was wearing the red trimmed cloak, instead of the tattered one he always wore, as well as the newer boots and belt. Had he actually dressed nicely to take up Phasma’s invitation? Dash glanced at Ren as he leaned over to murmur in Hux’s ear.

“Mitaka and I were planning on taking this to his quarters, Sir,” he said softly, barely audible, even to Hux. “Was wondering if you would be keen on joining us?”

Ren went rigid. No one else seemed to notice, but Hux, who had his eyes focused on Ren. Grey-green eyes flicked back to Dash, and Ren’s posture stiffened even more as one of Dash’s braids slipped from its band and brushed across Hux’s cheek. A glass on the bar counter shook slightly, and Hux paled slightly before turning his face to Dash’s, their lips almost brushing due to the gunner’s close proximity.

“I’ll have to politely decline, though I thank you for the invitation,” he said quietly. “It looks as though Lord Ren has need of my attention.”

Dark amber eyes locked with grey-green, and Hux’s mouth twitched slightly in a warning look- _Take the warning and go,_ Hux tried to broadcast through his expression. Fortunately, Dash seemed to understand and straightened.

“Thank you for your permission, General. I’ll have the Lieutenant back on shift in time,” he said teasingly, a brilliant white smile flashing in his dark face. Hux snorted and waved him off with a smile. Dash slipped an arm through Mitaka’s, grinning at the flush on the other man’s face.

“So. How about I show you that model Super Star Destroyer I told you I was building? Maybe your attention to detail can find anything I missed,” he said with that winning smile of his as he led the flustered Lieutenant out of the lounge.

Hux breathed a sigh of relief that his officers were out of the line of fire, but didn’t relax, as Ren was approaching him- quickly. The distance between them was closed in a matter of a few long strides. Ren towered over Hux, his mask aimed at him. Hux looked up at him with mild disinterest, knowing the other man was going to start a fight. He wasn’t in the mood for it- Ren had made him worried for the immediate safety of his men, and he wouldn’t have it, wouldn’t stand for it.

“Did you want something?” he asked lightly.

“I need to speak with you,” Ren said in a soft voice, but the rage simmering off him spoke otherwise.

 _So this is why you haven’t deigned to speak with me? Whoring yourself out to every officer on the bridge?_ Ren spat. Hux took a drag from his cigarra.

“Speak, then,” he replied.

 _You and I are not monogamous. We never agreed to be exclusive. You never said anything about wanting to be my only lover, and if given the opportunity, I will seek company where I will,_ Hux retorted. _What I do- and who I sleep with- is my own business, and you could do the same if you wished. And not that it matters, but I haven’t slept with anyone because I was afraid you’d react just like **this.**_

“Not here,” Ren growled softly. “But give me one good reason not to choke the life out of that insubordinate officer who had no sense of personal professional space.”

Maetra stiffened, and the look on her face was pure venom, enough to make Phasma twitch in surprise, as her lover shot the look at Ren. The Knight turned his head to the small woman, and for a long moment, the two silently stared at one another. Hux frowned, watching. There was definitely something being exchanged between the two, but Hux had no idea how well Ren was acquainted with the TIE fighter pilot- if at all. He also was surprised by the Captain’s sudden nerve in the face of Snoke’s apprentice.

“He is exaggerating, of course,” Hux said dismissively, trying to defuse the situation, but his voice held notes of warning. “He has no authority to harm any of my officers.”

The two stared at each other a few moments more, neither backing down, before Maetra finally tossed her head and went back to her drink, turning her back on Ren. Ren stared at her another moment, bristling, then turned back to Hux.

“Privately,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Hux sighed and finished his drink as he put out his cigarra. He stood and scooped up his greatcoat from the chair beside him, then nodded to Phasma and Maetra.

“Have a good evening,” he said as he turned and followed after Ren, who was already sweeping from the lounge.

Phasma sighed and downed her martini.

“So much for that,” she grunted.

Maetra was still glowering in the direction in which Ren had disappeared. Phasma tilted her head.

“Mae? Are you all right?” she asked.

Something had happened between her girlfriend and the Knight, that much she knew, and she didn’t like it. Maetra closed her eyes for a second, heaving a sigh through her nose.

“Nothing. I … may have accidentally had a mental brush with him.”

Phasma was silent for a moment. She knew Ren was capable of prying into the minds of others, and the thought of him crawling through Maetra’s mind had her hackles rising.

“Did he go through your mind?” she asked, her voice low.

Maetra shook her head.

“I may have all but mentally shouted ‘Over my pfassking dead body,’ when he mentioned killing Dash,” she admitted. “He threatened to call my bluff on it…. I called him a jealous child.”

Phasma’s jerked back silightly in obvious surprise-

“Maetra!” She hissed, finally aware of how close to death her girlfriend had come- but at the same time, she was impressed, as she always was, with the spine of beskar Maetra had. Maetra simply shrugged.

“He laughed at me and said if I was insubordinate again, he’d take me out, but he had more important things to do.”

“Like Hux,” Phasma snorted.

It was no secret to Phasma- or to Maetra, and the suspicions of most of the officers, for that matter- that the Knight and the General had a precarious and oddly developing relationship of some sort. Most bets were being placed on casual sex, with Ren being the easily attached and possessive type.

“It’s none of our business,” Maetra shrugged.

“It is when Ren threatens good men because he’s a child and underdeveloped in social graces and is completely unintelligent emotionally,” Phasma pointed out.

“Which is why being with Hux would be good for him, and why I’m staying out of it,” Maetra countered. “I know you’ve noticed how emotionally and socially intelligent the General is. He doesn’t need the Force to read people like a book.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Phasma said dryly. “Why do you think I wear my helmet most of the time?”

“To stun me every time you take it off, and I’m reminded of how beautiful you are?” Maetra said coyly, trailing slender fingers up the taller woman’s arm. Phasma snatched up her hand and entwined their fingers.

“That might be part of it,” she said softly. “Though you outshine me like a star does a candle.”

Phasma wanted to kiss every fingertip, every knuckle, the soft skin on the back of her lover’s hand, the inside of her wrist, to inhale the wonderful floral and amber scent of her perfume. She refrained, however. Phasma was not the type to do over the top public displays of affection- it made the private displays all the more intense and special in her mind. Never mind the damned helmet was in the way. Maetra purred and set her empty glass down, fluttering her eyelashes.

“You are hardly a mere candle, Phasma,” she replied throatily. “You are a wildfire in chrome armour.”

Despite herself, Phasma blushed behind the helmet. Maetra always knew what to say to get under her skin, and they both knew it- and Phasma loved it. Maetra smiled, her full painted lips curving, a flash of brilliant white teeth shining in her dark, tanned face.

“Can we go back to our room? I find I am wanting to make you blush far more than that,” she murmured, her smile turning wicked. Phasma’s breath hitched in her throat, and she offered her arm for Maetra with a flourish.

“Yes ma’am.”

\---

“You have a _lot_ of nerve, insinuating that you can simply threaten to kill my officers at your leisure,” Hux hissed as they reached the door to his quarters. With most of the officers back at the lounge, the corridor was empty, and Hux didn’t feel too keen on allowing Ren into his room.

“You want to know why I can’t trust you to control yourself, the Force? Because you threaten people needlessly, and they are utterly terrified of you because of your abilities. You wield that fear like a weapon over people that are _not_ yours to command,” he continued, his fingers clenching inside his gloves.

Ren pushed Hux against the door, slamming his hands to either side of his head, pinning him in. He said nothing, that nightmarish visage of his mask staring into Hux’s face. Hux lifted his chin defiantly, and refused to say another word, his silent way of saying that he would not speak to the mask. After a long, heavy pause, Ren reached up and undid the clasps and seals of his mask, removing it, and setting it down on the floor between their feet.

Hux swallowed, fighting back the small twinge of ache and longing as those expressive brown eyes looked at him from under hooded, furrowed brows. Ren licked his lips in agitation, then put his hands back on the door.

“Will you talk to me now?” He demanded.

Hux said nothing, something snapping. He ducked, and kneed Ren in the stomach as he slammed the entry panel of his door, which came open at his touch. Ren fell through the open door, and Hux followed after him, kicking Ren’s helmet inside. Ren rolled over, scrambling to try to get back to his feet, only to have Hux push him down with a boot to his chest as the door shut behind them.

“Be a good boy and stay down,” he snarled. “You want me? You want me to want only you? Then do exactly as I say, pet, behave, and perhaps I’ll forgive you.”

Ren’s heart raced at Hux’s tones, his words, and he had no words to reply to the General with as he stared up at the glowering man. Hux held him down, his boot pressing against Ren’s chest, and while Kylo had the strength and ability to throw Hux off, to fling him across the room and against the wall, he found he was paralysed.

And completely, and utterly aroused.

“Do you understand me?” Hux demanded.

Ren could only nod, unable to speak as Hux lifted his foot from his chest. He found himself gasping as the boot moved to grind painfully into his crotch, the heel pressing into his balls and his throbbing cock. The sound of creaking leather and his alarmed, aroused gasp seemed too loud in the quiet of Hux’s room.

“I said: Do you understand me?” Hux repeated.

“Yes, Sir,” Ren choked out, writhing under Hux’s boot.

“Good boy. Strip. Now,” Hux commanded, heading into the bedroom, leaving Ren on the floor.

Ren complied, hands tearing at the layers of his armour, his underclothes, and in record time, he was naked, on his knees- he had the feeling getting to his feet would not please Hux in the slightest.

Hux came back into the room, his coat removed, but still otherwise fully clothed, even with gloves and boots. In one hand, he clutched a bundle of black leather..

“Good boy,” he said softly, lifting Ren’s chin with leather-clad gloves.

His face didn’t show any pleasure, however, his expression cold and detached. He leaned over to drop the leather on the table, and it was with a thrill of fear, desire and nerves, that Ren realised what Hux was holding, was a leash, and a collar.

“Be still,” Hux demanded, picking up the collar.

Ren was utterly still, unable to move as Hux fastened the black leather band around his neck, the polished black metal clicking as the buckle locked shut. It rang in Ren’s ears, and the collar felt heavy, unnerving, around his neck.

“Good boy,” Hux repeated, his voice slightly more gentle, as he picked up the leash and hooked it to the collar. He straightened, then tugged on the leash.

“Heel,” he said smartly.

Ren immediately scrambled to Hux’s side, his shoulder pressing against the General’s knee. Hux made a soft noise of approval, and led Ren back into the bedroom, where he pointed to the bed.

“Up. Lay. Face-down,” he ordered, letting go of the leash.

Ren did as he was told, hopping onto the bed and lying down face first. He trembled, unsure what Hux had planned, but he trusted him, and that was enough.

The bed shifted under him as Hux got on it behind him. Gloved hands grabbed his hips and pulled his ass up and into the air, forcing Ren to bend his knees for support. The leash was pulled behind him, as were his hands, and the end of the leash was tied around his wrists, binding his hands together. There was the sound of a zipper being undone, and Ren could feel Hux’s weight against him, the crisp, stark texture of his uniform against bare skin.

He was mildly nervous, unsure what Hux was planning, even more so by the fact that he was bound, but oddly enough, since it was Hux holding him, tying him, he felt safe, and that anything that would happen to him would be controlled in Hux’s capable hands. Leather-clad fingers touched his ass, parting his cheeks and flicking a fingertip over his anus. Ren moaned, and Hux gave his ass an open palmed slap.

“Silence,” he murmured. “You will make noise when I say you can. You will show me how well you can control yourself, pet.”

Ren fell silent, clamping his teeth around the sheets on Hux’s bed, fingers curling into his palms. Hux bent down and kissed his lower back, nipping, biting at the sensitive skin above his tailbone.

“Good pet. My good vornskr,” Hux purred.

There was a sound of a lid being popped, and a few moments later, slick leather-clad fingers brushed over his anus, then probed gently into it. Ren willed himself to relax, but arched his back against the touch. Was Hux going to rim him again? Fuck him with his fingers? His answer came with the sensation of something warm, firm but soft, lubed and slick against his anus. Ren blinked, eyes going wide. It felt remarkably like-

“It’s a strap on,” Hux said softly, the thoughts barely seeping out from his mind that of question, of whether Ren was okay with what he was doing. “Synthflesh.”

Ren relaxed against him, arching his back, an unspoken gesture of consent. Hux grabbed his hips and worked the tip of his cock into him. Slowly, carefully, he pushed into him, taking his time. Ren bit back his groans, toes and fingers curling at the sensation- the delicious burn, the stretching, the feeling of being filled, and he wanted more. He moved to press back against Hux, but those firm hands gripped him tightly.

“No,” he growled. “I will give you pain, pet, but not like that. Patience.”

Another few agonisingly tantalising moments, where the only sounds were the rustle of Hux’s uniform, the creak of his leather gloves against Ren’s hips, and the soft wet sound of Hux’s cock sliding in and out of Ren’s ass, and finally, Hux began pounding into him in earnest. Ren bit back a cry, pressing his face into the mattress. Hux let go of one his hips and pulled at Ren’s hair, lifting his face. Tears were pouring down Ren’s face.

“Good boy, good pet, my sweet Kylo, my vornskr,” Hux praised, soothed, his tone slightly choppy as he pounded into his lover.

As he was told, Ren made no verbal reply, only closing his eyes and arching more into Hux’s motions. He clamped his mouth shut as Hux’s other hand released his hip, and pulled at the leash that bound his hands together, connected to the collar that practically burned Ren’s neck with the implications, the symbolism behind it.

There was another rustle as Hux let go of Ren’s hair, allowing him to drop his head again, and there was the distinct sound of a blade on cloth- the sound of one of Hux’s slender knives being slipped from the lining of his sleeve.

“Do you want me to draw blood, pet?”

Ren nodded vigorously. He wanted the pain, wanted the burn of a blade in his skin, for Hux’s deft hands to work over him. He wanted to make up for what he’d done. He wanted to atone for the problems he’d caused.

There was the burn, the sweet warmth, the singing pain of the razor sharp blade in his skin, drawing sweeps along both shoulder blades. There was the heat of blood welling up from the cuts, and then the soft wet touch of Hux’s tongue as the General lapped gently at his wounds. As he did so, he pressed carefully, deeply, into Ren, and the head of his cock pressed against Ren’s prostate.

Another long, careful, deliberate drag of the blade along the length of Ren’s spine, and Ren’s body shuddered violently. There was a squeal of enamel on enamel as Ren clenched his teeth together, his orgasm impending. Hux purred against Ren’s back as he licked the blood from the new cut.

“Come for me, pet,” he growled. “Be a good boy and come. You may make sounds now, Kylo.”

With a final push against Ren’s prostate, Hux buried himself within Ren, who screamed his release, the bed shaking, the contents of Hux’s shelves rattling and falling to the floor as he came, shooting semen over the black duvet covering Hux’s bed. Hux smiled indulgently, pulling out of Ren and undoing his bonds.

“Good boy, Kylo. Good boy,” he said softly, pulling the prosthetic off and setting it aside.

He unhooked the leash and set it aside, leaving the collar around Ren’s neck. At the other side of the bed, was a damp towel, which Hux picked up and used to wipe Ren down, gently and tenderly.

“Did…. Did I do well?” Ren asked in a soft voice.

“You pleased me greatly. You did so well, Kylo. You were such a good boy,” came the soothing reply.

Hux was removing his gloves, and pulling out bacta cream. He rubbed Ren down, applying the cream to his cuts, murmuring praise all the while. He checked his wrists for bruising, kissing them as he did so. Ren closed his eyes, drinking in the praise, purring as Hux continued rubbing him down.

“Now. What about this?” Hux asked, touching the collar around Ren’s neck. “Will you leave it on? Or are you not ready for that?”

Ren hesitated as he sat up, looking at Hux with a mix of emotions. Hux sat on the bed and pulled Ren into his arms.

“Talk to me, Kylo.”

_I thought I was enough._

_...What?_

The question took Hux entirely by surprise. Enough? As in… enough for Hux’s tastes? Enough to satisfy his need for companionship? Had Ren assumed their relationship was to be monogamous, and that Hux wouldn’t seek company elsewhere when Ren had pissed him off? That Hux would simply wait for him to come back, or go crawling back to him with an apology so they could resume where they left off?

 _I thought I satisfied you, that I was enough. That… I was doing something right,_ Ren said finally, his mental touch gentle, almost skittish. His face was mere centimetres away, his breath tickling Hux’s skin, and Hux could have easily closed the distance and pressed his mouth to Ren’s.

 _You don’t get to have exclusive claims to me when you don’t take what I went through that night seriously, Ren,_ Hux retorted sourly. _Did you even stop to think that I’d been attacked twice, lost a family friend and ally, and now have to worry about my mothers? That I had an old foe insulting me, bringing up the incident of my birth as a weapon? Did you consider how exhausted, how raw I was from all that? That perhaps some, if not all of this was orchestrated by an internal party set on removing me from my position?_

 _“_ Kylo… I know you have tunnel vision, but surely you understand that I am not being paranoid for the sake of being paranoid, and I had hoped you would give me some credit,” he said out loud, his voice soft, never breaking his hold of Ren’s gaze.

Ren winced, and had the decency to look abashed as he looked away from Hux’s steely gaze.

 _I did… but not until much later,_ he admitted.

_That aside, you threatened good people in my employ, over jealousy. That’s unacceptable, Ren._

Ren grappled with himself, searching for the words that wouldn’t make him sound weak, that wouldn’t make him soft. He couldn’t find them. He wasn’t a politician, not a silver tongued word-smith like Hux. Perhaps in another life, he could have- it was certainly in his blood, but that wasn’t what the universe had chosen for him.

 _You… you’re the only one who’s seen me vulnerable,_ he managed at last. _You don’t take advantage of me when I’m exposed. You’re the one thing that I have that keeps me centred. I…_

Hux realised in an instant.

_You thought if I was sleeping with someone else, that you wouldn’t be able to find peace, because you don’t want to share, and that I wouldn’t want to come back to you. You felt abandoned, and to keep me from actually abandoning you, you pushed me away._

Ren nodded silently, and Hux scowled.

_It’s a lovely and appreciated confession, and valid motivation, Ren, but threatening my officers who did nothing wrong is still inexcusable. I don’t know what drives you to such extremes, but this is why I am apprehensive of your abilities, Ren._

Ren leaned back and held out his hands.

_What can we… what can **I** do to make you trust me again?_

Hux was quiet for a moment, thinking.

 _Control your anger, Kylo,_ Hux finally said. _If you can control yourself, go without threatening my officers, keep yourself in control for the next few months, I will let you back into my confidence._

Ren chewed at the inside of his cheek. It was hard, would be hard, if not close to impossible. His mind had storms of emotions that, if bottled up, would destroy him from the inside out. Even meditation, training, even killing, didn’t stop the tempests of self deprecation, the impulses and intrusive thoughts that slowly devoured his mind.

As if sensing his turmoil, Hux reached up, hesitated, then carefully touched his fingers to Ren’s jaw and lifted with a feather-light pressure to have Ren look at him.

 _I am not saying you have to do that alone,_ he said softly. _If you feel you’re about to lose control, come to me. Talk to me, instead of festering alone. Trusting you means you have to trust me, too, Kylo._

Ren wanted to argue that he did, that he had, when blind to the Force thanks to the ysalamiri, but the protests died in his throat. The current armistice, the ultimatum between them was too fragile, and he knew it. Ren closed his eyes and pressed his face against Hux’s hand, nuzzling his cheek into his palm. A shuddering breath escaped him, and he nodded. Part of this, this craving of approval, of belonging, made him feel like it was teetering too close to the Light, but…

‘ _If I can’t control myself, how am I of any use to the Order? To my Master? … To Hux?’_ he thought quietly to himself. The thought reassured him that yes, this was okay. He had to have a centre. Stability. Something he admittedly could not achieve on his own.

He opened his eyes in surprise as Hux’s lips pressed to his- softly, gently, carefully. Grey-green eyes stared into his.

“How long will you be gone?” Hux asked quietly.

Ren wanted to pull Hux under the blankets, to fall asleep in his arms, to forget everything, to fully submit, roll over and show his belly to Hux. He wanted to take solace in Hux’s company, to drown in his presence. He settled for pressing his forehead to Hux’s, closing his eyes as he reined in his emotions. What was it about Hux that controlled him so thoroughly, but made him feel so safe in ways he never had?

“At _least_ three months. Perhaps longer,” he replied softly. “There is a map in the Imperial Archives I have to retrieve, as well as a few Jedi my Knights and I missed. I have to take care of them.”

Hux nodded slightly, and Ren couldn’t help but smirk at the approval radiating from him.

_Is murder only forgivable if it doesn’t involve the Order?_

_I said needless murder,_ Hux replied, but a smirk of his own was curling his mouth. _We don’t need Jedi. We don’t need the Republic or the Resistance. We do, however, need the talented officers of the Order._

Ren gave in to his desire, and kissed Hux. It was tender, delicate, full of the vulnerability he was feeling. He slid fingers into Hux’s hair, tracing fingertips over his scalp and murmuring nonsensically between kisses and gentle bites to Hux’s lips. After what seemed like hours, Hux pulled back, his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. His lips were red and swollen, his cheeks flushed.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Kylo,” Hux said, almost teasingly, touching the collar again.

Ren shuddered and removed the collar. He held it out to Hux, hating the disappointment in those green eyes.

 _Can we… talk on this further when I return, after I have had time to think on this, on us?_ He asked hastily, not wanting Hux to think he was flat out refusing.

Hux reached up and stroked Ren’s hair gently, trailing them over his scalp and down the back of his neck.

_Yes. Come to me when you return, Kylo._

They both stood, and Hux began helping him get dressed again in silence.

_I will. Try not to enjoy my absence too much while I am gone, Armitage._

Hux smiled with kiss-swollen lips as he straightened Ren’s cloak and put his mask on.

_No promises- save for the one that I will abstain from another’s company until you get back._

Under his mask, Ren smiled in relieved possessiveness, projecting it mentally to Hux before turning and heading off to prepare for his mission. Hux watched him go, feeling a weight lifted from his chest.

\-------------------------------------------------

Getting down to planetside hadn’t been an issue- some of the old diplomatic codes he remembered _her_ using still worked, and he’d been able to land without problem. Getting to the Imperial Palace, however, had been another challenge entirely- one he’d spent his entire trip brooding over.

He could easily don local civilian gear and slip into the crowd; he knew he had an unremarkable face that could easily blend into the masses. However, having an unremarkable face didn’t mean unrecognisable- especially to those who knew his family- and he couldn’t risk being seen by someone who might raise a cry, be it alarm or joy. He settled on waiting until nightfall, and slunk through back alleys and leapt over rooftops to reach the old Palace, fogging and befuddling minds of those who got too close.

 _I could have easily killed them_ , he reflected, as he slid into the ruins of the Imperial Palace. He didn’t want to admit that he had refrained, because even though his agreement with Hux had applied only to those in the Order, he felt a certain obligation to practise restraint. If he could stay his hand with bystanders, it would be easier to leave allies be. Or so he told himself.

The palace was a ruin, and while getting through the remains hadn’t been an issue, the archives deep in the bowels of the wreckage was an entirely different matter. Hidden panels and passages, installed by the Emperor himself, and marked on Ren’s schematics, were pushed open, and he let himself into the hidden vaults. Waiting in standby mode, a troop of guardian droids whirred to life, buzzing angrily, and foolishly attacked.

Mainly designed to combat non-Force user intruders, it was no contest, and the mechanicals fell quickly to the crackling lightsaber. However, there were plenty of them as the Knight headed deeper into the vaults for the data archives, and eventually, he began to get annoyed. Figuring he was deep enough underground to where no one would hear, Ren let himself go wild with his attacks, and for a time, let himself be controlled by the Force, letting it flow through him, let it ride his anger, and he became a whirlwind of destruction.

After a while, he huffed, the last droid falling at his feet. This had taken far longer than he’d anticipated, and with far more fighting than planned- not that he minded. Any excuse to channel his rage and frustration.

‘Now for the tricky part,’ he thought, pulling a various array of datacards, a datapad, and various encrypt codes and slicing modules out of a hidden pouch under a layer of his armour. Ignoring the dust and debris, he plopped down on the floor in front of a console and got to work.

Under his mask, Ren worked his lips furiously as he sucked at his upper teeth, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked. There was one thing he had never lost- Master of the Knights of Ren or not- and that was the upbringing from the various people in his childhood who taught him to work magic with tech and ships, and slicing was no exception. He could thank Karrde and Ghent for that particular talent- Ghent especially. Ren tried not to dwell on it often.

Lines of code scrolled down his datapad’s display, and one by one, Ren entered various decrypt and access codes. Every now and then, a telltale blinked, a faint tinny beep sounded, and Ren paused to insert a new datacard into the datapad, or hook a module to the access port. Another long pause as his display flashed, and pulling out a long thin tool, Ren pried the panel open, and began unhooking various components, and connecting his own to the wires and plugs. He pulled his gloves off and fingers went flying over the haptic interface of the datapad, then the console’s keys.

A smile spread over Ren’s mouth under the nightmarish mask as a bright, cheerful beep sounded, and the display went green, and he was given full access. He keyed for a data dump of the entire archive, and slipped his gloves back on before getting to his feet.

He stretched as the data was downloaded, brushing dust from his armour. He’d been at it for hours, and his arse was mildly numb from sitting on the cold duracrete floor. He paced almost excitedly as he worked feeling back into his lower limbs, wondering what else he might find, aside from the charts he’d been sent to retrieve. Many of the Emperor’s secrets had been hidden here- not the largely important ones, which were rumoured to have been hidden in a storehouse on an uncharted planet along with esoteric tech and trophies- but the intel in this archive would surely have something of use.

A final beep, and the dump was complete. Ren unhooked everything, tucked it all neatly back into his pouch, and made his way back out. The trip back to his shuttle was uneventful, but he had to hurry his pace to beat the sunrise- his black armour and garish mask would be sure to catch negative attention.

Ren settled into the shuttle and keyed in the coordinates for the rendezvous point with his Knights, then began to flick idly through the contents of the datapad. He was distracted, however, his thoughts drifting to Hux- which led to another related thought and memory.

_“First the Imperials take my sister, then my parents are sent to Kessel for daring to ask about their taken daughter.”_

He knew he hadn’t been meant to hear that, but at the time, he’d been enhancing his hearing as he’d changed, in case Hux had needed him. He had learned from the overheard conversation that Hux had a missing aunt. Ren considered, tilting his head as he removed his helmet and sat it down on the empty seat beside him. He didn’t know the name of said sister, but he knew the last name. Perhaps….

Fingers flew over the haptic interface, typing in various parameters: Chandrila. Varrin. Coruscant. He let the search run, his eyes flicking to the canopy, watching the mottled lines of hyperspace overhead. A beep brought his attention back to the datapad.

A few entries on the Varrin family were found- Ren recognised them immediately by Angelica Varrin’s name. He browsed them, seeing what he expected- a note on the family’s position, their working class jobs. There were notes on her employment on Arkanis, and the birth of her child. Ren bookmarked those for later reading, as another entry had caught his attention: Elizabeth Varrin.

He paused. This Elizabeth….

“ _Good to see you finally grew some balls, Elizabeth,”_ Gilbore’s words echoed in Ren’s head. He paused. Had Hux’s mother given him that name when he was born after the sister she’d lost? The fact that she now called him Armitage, without any issue, without any resentment that he’d been able to detect, spoke measures of her love for her son, despite the long estrangement.

Envy gripped Ren’s heart as tightly as his fist gripped the armrest of his chair, but he forced himself to relax. This wasn’t about him. He opened the entry on Elizabeth Varrin, and read- but it didn’t take long, as the entry was short.

_Youngest daughter of Errest and Madelaine Varrin. Aged seven when taken from family for duty to Emperor Palpatine. Taken to Coruscant for training. Whereabouts unknown after arrival to Imperial Palace._

Ren sighed. A dead end, at least in this search.. He considered, then entered new search parameters: Emperor Palpatine. Personal assistants. Emperor Palpatine’s court. Court training.

This one took a bit longer, working through encrypt codes and access hurdles, but Ren was an accomplished slicer, and his own skills got him through, bringing the files up. Emperor Palpatine’s court- articles on his favourite courtiers, dancers. Ren wrinkled his nose and flicked to the next one- Inner Court, trustees, a mention of the Grand Admirals- Thrawn among them, which Ren bookmarked for Hux- and then… Emperor’s Hand.

Ren paused. Emperor’s Hand? That had his senses tingling. He opened it and skimmed over it.

_Emperor’s Hand- Force sensitive operatives, assassins, enforcers, personal agents of Emperor Palpatine and harbingers of judgement. Notable agents, last active Hands- Lumiya, Mara Jade._

Ren lifted a brow. Mara Jade. The name stuck out for reasons he couldn’t explain, and he keyed up her file. To his disappointment, it was short, like Elizabeth Varrin’s had been.

_Mara Jade, Emperor’s Hand. Trained from young age after Force Sensitivity discovered. Among Emperor Palpatine’s favoured agents, present at secret promotion for Grand Admiral Thrawn._

The article ended, and Ren let out a growl of frustration. That told him nothing. Lumiya’s article was similarly short and succinct. Out of one last annoyed but defiant attempt to get something, anything, Ren pulled up the holo of Mara Jade-

-and froze in his seat.

The woman was lithe, toned, and clearly in her prime, with long wavy hair, and intense eyes- _red_ hair and _green_ eyes, and skin dusted in _freckles._ Ren stared at the holo, not daring to believe it. Was this her? Could it be Hux’s missing aunt?

He made a small dump of every bit of data- not that there was much- on Mara Jade onto another data card and stowed it away. He was well out of range of any probes that would tap into his feeds, so he tapped into the holonet and ran searches for Mara Jade. While it ran, he asked himself why he cared.

Hux was a distraction- a pleasant one and someone he begrudgingly admitted he cared about, but a distraction nonetheless. He was an ally, but one he admittedly trusted, and whose company he enjoyed. Still. Hux hadn’t gone out of his way for him, so why was he going out of his way for Hux? Why was he so determined to find something on this missing family member?

 _Because you don’t have a family,_ a voice whispered in the back of his head. _You’re envious of his family, and you know it’s partially your fault Carise died. You saw how loving his mothers were, how accepting they are, how they were even kind to you, of all people. Are you a fool enough to think you could be part of that if you help mend it, help recover what’s been lost?_

“Shut up,” Ren snapped aloud to his intrusive thoughts.

“He’s been good to me,” Ren said softly. “He’s had me vulnerable, exposed, and he was gentle in the same way he was dominant. He controlled, but didn’t exploit. I trust him…. I… I want to tell him yes when I return.”

He’d said the words aloud. There was no going back now. There was only going forward.

——

He was halfway to the rendezvous when the search found something- a vague mention of Mara Jade’s name, in connection with a smuggling organisation ran by a man named Talon Karrde- an organisation that now doubled as an independent intel gathering ring. It was rumoured their base had been moved from its last location due to their unwilling involvement with the Republic incurring the wrath of Grand Admiral Thrawn.

Ren groaned. He knew Karrde, alright, and knew this was going to cause some issues. Karrde never gave any information away without an exchange in kind. Still, it was his only option so far.

Ren keyed up the last known location for the headquarters and frowned. Myrkr. Where was that? Some more prodding, and he felt his blood run cold. Myrkr- where the local plant life was metallic and skewed electronic readings, and one of the local species was the ysalamir. He swallowed. Just one of those things had rendered him helpless, relying on Hux to see for him. What would an entire planet of the creatures do to him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. There had to be another way-

“Pfassk,” he swore. “I am _not_ going to Myrkr.”

He scoured the names and locations again, and a name stood out- Ghent. Ren blinked. He knew Ghent- he was a slicer who worked for an unknown group in collaboration with the New Republic before he’d gone back to his original employer- and his family aside, Ghent was one of the slicers who’d taught Ren some tricks when he was younger. He’d worked for Karrde? How had he not known? Had Ackbar finally booted the smuggler’s group out after the Mon Cal’s distaste for fringe finally won over diplomacy?

Feeling the stirrings of excitement, Ren ran searches for Ghent, going off old comm channels and codes he remembered from his days with the Republic- and got a hit. Aves, the last known contact working with the slicer. It was a start.

Ren sent out a message to the man, asking to speak to Ghent, or Mara Jade, heavily encrypted, using one of Ghent’s old comm codes, then got ready for his rendezvous with his Knights.

The vornskr had prey to catch before he could trot home to his master.


	16. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snoke does not ship it. A series of events has Kylo questioning his loyalty and his very identity. Kylo gets a glimpse of the inner workings of Hux's mind, and is more confused than ever about how this man works.

Ren shook, his nails digging into his palms as he cowed before Snoke. His skin crawled with pain, his muscles screamed, his bones ached and his very marrow seemed to throb in agony. Sweat poured down his face, his jaw clenching, teeth biting into his lip to keep the gasps and whimpers of pain from escaping him. 

It still was nothing compared to the shrieking torment ripping through his mind. 

“I ignored the carnal relations you indulged in at first, Kylo Ren,” the monstrous figure said, not visible as it lurked in the shadows. Part of Ren’s punishment was his Master being angry enough to refuse to show himself, to let his apprentice know he wasn’t worthy of a face to face confrontation. 

“This… submission,” Snoke spat, a hiss from deformed lips. “Is beneath you, diminishes you, undoes the training I have subjected you to. You are softened, weakened, and as a result, you dallied, and allowed Luke Skywalker and his allies to abscond with the remaining data that would have led to his location.”

Ren knew better than to reply immediately with apologies- Snoke would only see them as empty placation, and wouldn’t have them from the kneeling Knight of Ren. He remained silent, letting the pain rake through his mind and body. 

“You will not fall before you complete your training,” Snoke seethed quietly, a ripple in the shadows. “General Armitage Hux is a tool. Nothing more. A means to an end. A weak, power hungry fool, no more than a rabid cur. If he were not essential to the training and conditioning of the Order’s troopers, I would have had him killed years ago.”

Snoke materialised from the shadows before Ren, his pale, spidery fingers curling in anger. 

“Like any mortal, any lesser being, any tool, he will cease to be useful, become obsolete, and be disposed of. There is no point in clinging to anything that is useless, Kylo Ren.” 

The touch on his mind became more painful, like claws digging through his skull and penetrating deep into his brain, tearing, corrupting, ripping as they rent through him. Ren felt himself nod without thinking, an automatic response. 

“The General is a vice I indulged in too deeply,” Ren said quietly, bowing lower and pressing the forehead of his mask to the stone floor. “It will not happen again, my Master.”

“For the General’s sake… it had best not.” 

The claws released his mind, and Ren’s body shook violently. A moment later, and Snoke was gone, leaving Ren alone with his ravaged mind and body, and the ache of knowing that if he went after the one thing- the one person- he actually wanted, he would lose him. 

Ren stood, his knees wobbling, and he made his way through the Supremacy back to his shuttle. He collapsed into the pilot’s seat and keyed in the nav coordinates for home. He pulled his helmet off, setting it aside, and rubbed at his temples in a poor attempt to ease the tension in his head. Suddenly, it occurred to him that Snoke had not discovered their relationship through Hux- but through him. 

He knew Snoke had communicated with Hux after their relationship had begun. He knew Snoke had looked into Hux’s eyes and spoken with him regarding the Starkiller Base. Yet, during this punishment, there had been nothing to indicate that Snoke had any previous knowledge of their entanglement. Snoke had mentioned Hux was hard to read, and Ren knew this, too- Hux’s partitions were impenetrable.

_“You must know his mind. He wants to take your place. He wants to kill you.”_

_“He wants to kill a lot of people. I don’t take it personally. He wants to kill **you** sometimes, and that viciousness is what makes him useful.” _

Snoke hadn’t confirmed- or denied- that he knew Hux’s mind. Perhaps because he couldn’t- or was only seeing what Hux allowed to be seen. Snoke constantly dismissed Hux’s mind as a shallow pit of blind ambition and petty narcissism stemming from being an abused pup that grew into a vicious cur. He truly thought Hux a particularly loudly barking pup capable of biting, perhaps maiming for the master holding the leash as long as it was believed it was done of his own choice.

_“Pups who are abused often grow to be vicious creatures, but they never forget where they came from. And they never forgive.”_

_“You all underestimate me. You see me as something you can control. Something weak. I am not weak. I am **patient.** ”_

“You hid it from _him_ ,” he said out loud, his voice barely audible, even to his own ears in the hush of the cockpit. 

Dark amber eyes widened. 

“How? How did you hide something of that magnitude from him?”

He thought back to the times he’d probed Hux’s mind, and to his surprise, remembered distinctly that his mind had always seemed off limits- or at least, sections of his mind were off limits. As if they’d been locked. His eyes glanced to the datapad containing information on Mara Jade. If she was indeed Hux’s aunt, that would be at least one piece of the puzzle to the mystery solved. 

He paused. If she were his aunt, would that make him Force Sensitive? Would that be why he could hide things from Snoke- even important things like the fact that he’d been _fucking his Apprentice?_ But no… Snoke would have known, Ren would have known. He would have an effect on the Force, he would have a signature, a feel all his own like a unique stone causing its own ripples in the flow of a stream.

_But he does- he’s a blind spot._

Even trying to think about Hux and his presence in the Force on an abstract level was difficult, because it was impossible to put his finger on Hux at all- trying to actively seek Hux out with the Force was like trying to layer water on top of oil. 

_And it’s only when he isn’t aware of my presence- when he is, he passively projects monotonous thoughts, irritation, concentration, thoughts and emotions that are typical of him._

It was something to consider- but now, his comm was beeping. He hit the switch, turning it on. 

“Speak.”

The voice on the other end hesitated. 

“I got your message,” drawled a voice. “Who is this?”

Ren knew that voice, even aged as it was. 

“Aves,” he replied. “We have a common contact- Ghent.” 

“Figured as much, what with that encrypt you used. What do you want with him?”

Ren leaned back in his chair. 

“Actually. You could help me, too. I’m looking for Mara Jade.”

There was a silence from Aves’ end- a long silence. One that was eventually broken by a new voice. A cultured, well modulated, and smooth voice. 

“This is Talon Karrde. What do you want with Mara?” he asked, his voice even, but with the barest edge of menace- and possessive irritation. 

Right. Ren had pried some more while waiting to hear back from Ghent, and learned the two ended up marrying after the war- and that Mara Jade and Luke Skywalker had been involved until he decided to devote his time to training new Jedi.

Ren was secretly glad they had parted ways- even if they wouldn’t have been related by blood, he wasn’t sure how he would have felt, knowing he and Hux were related by marriage. Definitely would have put a damper on their sex life.

“I have information with gaps in it,” Ren replied carefully, keeping his own voice even. “Gaps that only she can fill.”

“You do a poor job of hiding that Corellian accent,” Karrde scoffed softly, then his tone cooled and hardened slightly. “I told the Republic and the Resistance that my organisation is done shifting into their territory. With the First Order expanding across my trade routes, I can’t take sides.” 

Ren pursed his lips. This was information he hadn’t known, but it was useful all the same. He knew Karrde had remained neutral during the Rebellion, when he’d become an intelligence broker for the Republic. It seemed the Republic- and the Resistance- were ruffling the feathers of the fringe elements. A potential ally- or at least reassurance that the fringe wouldn’t mobilise against them. Hux might think little of the fringe, consider them to be dregs, nothing better than bantha shit, but Ren knew how beneficial it would be to have them as an ally or neutral party. He also knew how dangerous it would be to have them as an enemy. 

“I’m not with the Republic or the Resistance. I’m a neutral party who may have information on Mara Jade’s background, but I need to speak with her to confirm it,” Ren said smoothly. 

There was another silence, and Ren imagined Karrde was mulling that over in his mind, stroking his hand over the neatly trimmed goatee he always had. He also had no doubt that Karrde had noticed his new contact hadn’t said whether or not he was with the First Order.

“What sort of information?” His tone was hungry, despite trying to remain casual, Ren could sense that much. Karrde was reputed to crave information more than any profit, and even in his silver years, that appetite clearly hadn’t waned. 

“I’m afraid that’s classified,” he replied evenly, then, remembering something Hux had once said, continued. “But if you’re not willing to help, I can try to get in touch with Jorj Car’das and see if he knows where she is.”

There was a faint hiss over the comm- the sound of a sharp intake of breath. 

“That won’t be necessary. I know where she is,” Karrde said, almost too quickly. It seemed that Karrde was still unnerved by his former boss. Interesting, given that from what Hux had told him, Car’das was simply a retired intel collector rumoured to be married to a retired Grand Admiral who’d gone AWOL sometime before the battle of Endor. 

“Unfortunately, Mara’s not here,” Karrde said. “She’s on Nar Shaddaa.”

Ren narrowed his eyes. 

“You’re awfully forthcoming about her whereabouts, Karrde,” he said suspiciously. 

“Forthcoming with her location is one thing,” Karrde countered casually, and Ren could almost hear the shrug accompanying his words. “But finding her on the moon’s surface, when she doesn’t want company… is another entirely different matter. When Mara Jade doesn’t want to be found, even telling someone where she sleeps at night won’t do them much good. Never mind that it’s Nar Shaddaa- people go there to get lost.”

Ren knew that, but said nothing. He knew from growing up with a smuggler as a father that Nar Shaddaa was where to go if you wanted to fade into the crowd and disappear- if you didn’t have a bounty on you, that is.

“And I suppose you’re wanting a trade- I tell you what it is I know, and you give me her comm frequency, only to have me look a fool when I call her, and she knows everything because you told her in advance?” Ren asked, his tone light and casual. 

“You wound me,” Karrde said in mock indignation, but Ren knew he’d got it in one. “I am a man of honour, despite my trade.”

“I’m sure,” Ren drawled. “However, this is for her only. I cannot impart this intel to anyone else.”

“This leaves us at an impasse, it seems,” Karrde said, his way of saying he wasn’t going to give, but his tone was regretful, still hungry. Ren simply answered the statement with silence. After a few more moments, there was another sigh. 

“I’ll give you a compromise. I will give her your frequency, and should she decide to contact you, she will- if you tell me the nature of your intel, so she knows what to expect.”

Ren knew he wasn’t going to get much better, and relented. 

“I have reason to believe I have found living relatives of hers, and I need confirmation,” he said, his tone implying he wasn’t going to say anything else on the matter. 

Clearly, this was not what Karrde had been expecting, as there was a stunned silence from the other end, and it took almost a full minute before he replied again. 

“I don’t think that’s possible, given her background and previous employment….” he said slowly. 

“I know she was one of the Emperor’s Hands, Karrde, let’s not dance around the subject. We’re both intelligent men, here,” Ren snapped. “I have old records indicating that she is related to someone cl- someone in my organisation. I need confirmation.”

His emotions were getting the better of him. He centred himself, pushing the feelings away, letting cold fury and focus fill him as Karrde considered. 

“Very well. What name should I give her, then, when I tell her to contact you?”

“There is no name- tell her simply that I know the fate of her sister Angelica,” he said simply, and closed the connection. Now it was time to do his real work- the work he’d neglected. 

He dug into the files he’d extracted, pulling up maps and star charts, hyperspace lanes and various systems flagged by the Empire and the Emperor’s interests. It was half-way through the scanning that he found the map he had been tasked with finding- only to discover that it had a large chunk missing. 

Said chunk had the end location he was seeking. Someone had gotten to the archives before he did, had edited, erased the data, and he had nothing to bring back to Snoke. His vision blurred, going red with anger and frustration- and possibly fear, though he’d never admit it, not even to himself. He sat in the pilot’s chair, gripping the armrests until they cracked, resisting the urge to unleash havoc upon the cockpit of his shuttle. Instead, he focused on control, on regaining agency over himself again. 

If he had the main map, it meant whomever had the piece wouldn’t know where to start- they wouldn’t know where to begin their search. The location that was missing was between the Outer Rim and relatively uncharted Wild Space- it would take another Force user to find him without the larger map to guide them. Snoke, Ren and his Knights were the only Force users aside from Skywalker himself left in the galaxy.

Or so Ren wanted to believe. 

This revelation still didn’t help him overcome the feeling of failure, the rage, and the fear of coming back to Snoke almost empty handed. 

He hoped Mara Jade contacted him soon- not only did he want to know more about Hux’s family, but he had the feeling she could tell him more about ysalamiri, and perhaps, how to use them to his advantage.

Ren returned to the Finalizer nearly a month later, and Hux, barely catching the security footage from the bridge, was relieved to see him step off the shuttle and into the hangar bay. His body language spoke of exhaustion, and Hux more than halfway expected to hear Ren in his mind, silently asking to be allowed into his quarters for a respite. 

Hux was confused when the contact wasn’t made, and Ren went straight to his own rooms, locking himself in and refusing to answer the door- even when Hux came to knock on it. He tried reaching out with his own mind to talk to Ren, but he wasn’t sensitive with the Force, and didn’t know how to make contact- usually Ren did it first, or left the connection open, and Hux jumped in on the open mental circuit. 

He ended up going back to his quarters for dinner, feeling a mixture of irritation, worry and hurt, but didn’t push. Perhaps his mission had been more training, and he had to meditate after it. Not that that had stopped him before, however.

His thoughts were pulled away as Mitaka called for his attention on the final launch of a vital system- one of many- that supported the oscillator. Hux cleared his mind of Ren at once; this was critical, and he couldn’t be distracted on the containment functions of the Starkiller Base. It was almost completed, and he couldn’t afford to split his attention now. 

Ren and whatever he had done would have to wait. 

——

Ren flopped onto his bed, the mattress hard and barely yielding to his form, and for an instant, he found himself yearning for the softness of Hux’s bed. He instantly felt pain jolt through him, echoes of what Snoke had done to him, and he thought perhaps his master was correct. Hux was making him soft. 

Before he’d been intimate with the man, he never would have longed for creature comforts such as thick blankets, plush pillows and yielding mattresses. He never would have considered the luxury of a hot shower longer than five minutes- even if he’d been physically capable of standing that long without his limbs giving out. 

He even thought longingly of the dinners Hux had shoved at him, and his stomach made an odd sound and twitch in his abdomen- a sound of hunger, but recoil from the thought of food when his entire body ached so fiercely. 

Ren shook his head, the back of his skull rocking on the mattress- he didn’t have a pillow since he’d destroyed the last one he had, resulting in feathers all over his room. 

He was torn. He was powerful, the Master of the Knights of Ren, Snoke’s apprentice. He embraced the Dark Side, he should be able to have what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. If he wanted to fuck the General of the First Order, he should be able to do so. If he wanted to stand in a hot shower for as long as he wanted, who was to say he couldn’t? Why should he deny himself basic comforts when he was Kylo Ren, and no one, aside from Snoke, could tell him otherwise?

That gave him pause. 

Why _should_ he deny himself anything? Why was he being treated as one of the lowest ranks? Even troopers had more comfortable accommodations than he did, had more time to rest. The only thing they had in common was the rations they ate- usually protein paste in one of three flavours, water enhanced with vitamins, minerals and nutrients, and the occasional plain meal of instant bread and packaged “meat.” 

But Snoke told him otherwise. Why? What did it achieve, treating him like a common soldier when he was so much more than that? Why should he be treated the same as them when he was a primed weapon?

Or was he?

Ren was constantly told he was gifted, full of raw power and greatness spanning from his lineage. Destined for greatness, made to conquer and rule. So why was he being treated otherwise? Was he not what he’d been told? After all, wasn’t the point of following The Ren being that one took what they wanted as the galaxy gave it to them? Why should he deny himself anything that was presented to him?

The thoughts ran over and over in his head, circling in an endless loop that started to numb his perceptions. In the middle of it all, he remembered Hux’s suspicion. His faltering worries about the Force influencing Carise’s memories, how he had _almost_ thought Snoke had done it, only to slam his mind closed when Ren had demanded to know if Hux suspected the Supreme Leader of doing it. 

If Snoke _was_ trying to have Hux disposed of, if he _was_ trying to drive a wedge between Hux and his support system, to discredit and undo his work, why take the effort of such insidious subtleties? Why not just kill Hux outright and be done with it, tell whatever lie he wanted? No, because if he did so, any new troopers would not respond to the programming, the indoctrination, without Hux as the centre. So why, if this was happening, would Snoke take such a slow, underhanded tactic?

Then Ren thought about how the older troopers, those who didn’t often need reprogramming, had been pulled to the _Supremacy._ The newer troopers, those who still needed conditioning, were on the Finalizer, or on Starkiller base. The officers, who had a different level of training, under a different program, were divided, too. Now that Ren thought about it, the officers on the Finalizer and the base were those most loyal to Hux. Others- especially the older officers from the Empire, who resented Hux for his position and power at a fraction of their age- were on the _Supremacy_ , or had been assigned to the new Dreadnoughts. 

Snoke wouldn’t _need_ to have Hux around if he already had loyal officers, and older, seasoned troopers who had been conditioned to already accept Snoke without input from Hux. There was a clear divide happening, almost as if Snoke were arranging something cancerous to be cut off, and was isolating the affected parts. 

Then there had been Hux’s worries about security measures and design flaws that, on their own, seemed minuscule, unimportant, but in the grander scheme, could contribute to a domino effect that could result in catastrophe- and Snoke had dismissed them, stating the fleet would be able to keep attackers at bay, and the shields would be sufficient since no one could infiltrate the base unless they flew to it, and get past the shields while they were still up. 

Yet, there was only the Finalizer in orbit around Starkiller Base at the current moment. Possibly one of the Daughters of Tarkin- he knew Kersyva was often near the Finalizer when he wasn’t doing field work. Occasionally, a complement of the Fellfire, Harbinger, Conqueror, Silencer and the Feralis were stationed in orbit, but when Ren thought about it, the five battlecruisers had been around less and less- only the Fellfire and the Feralis were a near constant presence, but even those two had been known to make trips away from Starkiller. It also occurred to Ren that the Absolution hadn’t been seen since Captain Cardinal had gone missing, and it had been the counterpart to the Finalizer for some time. 

Ren froze as the realisation hit him- it was possible Snoke wanted something to happen to the Starkiller Base. 

Why? Why would Snoke put so much into Starkiller, into the troopers, into the Order, only to split it, and set up half for possible failure? Was there another agenda at play? Snoke had always stressed that he trusted his apprentice, impressed upon him that he was told everything so that he might carry out his will. So if there was a plot at work here, Ren had not been told, and that he wasn’t trusted, and that there was possibly truth and sanity in Hux’s paranoia. 

This called everything he thought to be indisputable, irrefutable truth into question- including his own role, his purpose, and even his abilities. Most importantly, it called into question his sense of _self_ and if his loyalty to Snoke was based on a lie, but loyalty to Hux was a weakness- what did it mean for him if one was true and the other was a lie?

The loop of thoughts stopped circling neatly and began going off kilter, a centrifuge thrown off its axis, sending the contents flying. Ren sat up, clutching his head and feeling a disconnect between himself and…. Himself. 

He felt as though he were watching a holofeed of someone else, through their eyes. The room was unfamiliar, but he felt as though he ought to know it. The boots at the end of the bed, the long legs, the black robes, they tugged at him, but they were strange, alien. He suddenly realised he didn’t have a grasp on who he was, he had no idea what his name was, what he was supposed to be doing. 

All he knew was that he was trapped in someone’s head, in someone’s room, and it wasn’t his, and his world felt all at once too big and too small simultaneously. He began to pant, panic in the lungs he wasn’t even sure were his. He stumbled to feet that were clumsy, long legs ungainly, crumpling underneath him. He struggled to get to the refresher, and made his way to the mirror, holding himself up by the sink, staring into a face he didn’t recognise. 

_WHO ARE YOU._

There was no answer from the strange face looking back at him.

 _WHERE AM I._

The words bounced in his head, and the mouth reflected in the mirror didn’t move, the eyes never wavered. He knew this couldn’t be his face, he couldn’t control it. Who was this man he was staring at, whose mind was he occupying? Whose trembling hands were clutching the sink, metal creaking under gloved fingers?

_You’re on the Finalizer._

The voice in his head was calm, authoritative. It soothed over the raw cracks and rising terror, but he jerked at the sudden intrusion. 

_Who?_

_Kylo Ren._ The voice was gentle, but firm. Still calm, tinged slightly with concern, and there was a gentle, soothing silver-blue light that flared in the periphery of his mind as the voice spoke. _You know me. General Armitage Hux. Leader of the First Order military._

_Who is Kylo Ren?_

There was a long pause, and he started to wonder if he’d hallucinated the other voice, but it had been so familiar, so soothing, and he heard the lungs he didn’t own pushing panicked breaths through the mouth that wasn’t his, when the voice didn’t immediately respond. 

_I can’t… I don’t know where I am. I don’t know this face. Help me,_ he all but shrieked, pressing the heels of the stranger’s hands into his eyes to block out the face he didn’t recognise- trying not to notice the reflection doing the same before the hands blocked his view.

_Be still. I’m coming._

It didn’t take long, and he wondered how the other man knew where to find him, how to get to him so quickly from wherever he’d been. All he knew was that when there was a pounding at the door, and that voice calling, out loud, to let him in, he crumpled to his knees in relief to the floor. He couldn’t move. It was hard controlling limbs you didn’t own. 

The door opened anyway, and the tall man in black with a flaming crown of red hair was tucking an access key card into his pocket as he came into the room. He strode across the floor in shining boots- so bright and shiny and polished!- and knelt beside him. 

“Kylo,” the man said. “Stars, you look awful. What happened?”

“Who?”

“It’s me. Armitage Hux. You know me, Kylo. Come on, let’s get you up and out of those filthy clothes.” 

“They aren’t mine. Who am I, Armitage Hux? Where am I?”

The pale grey-green eyes flashed, and the red brows furrowed. A gloved hand stroked his cheek and he felt the ghost of its touch, an echo, a memory. He found himself staring at the man’s lips, the freckles on his cheeks, the fresh scar on his cheekbone-

_**Ren reached out, just in time, but still too late, as the shot rang out.** _

**_Screams filled the chamber as Hux crumpled to the floor, blood splattering the white of his uniform. Carise fled from the General, panic overtaking her as she ran, crimson sprayed on the ebony and copper of her dress. Ren dropped the coat, rushing to Hux's side._ **

**__** _Hux!_

_I- I'm okay. You-_

_**Hux was bleeding profusely, his cheek gouged by the shot that had been thrown off just in time by Ren's shield. It was deep, and would need stitches- Ren felt a wave of rage as he could actually see a glimpse of his cheekbone. He didn’t have time to try to tend to Hux’s wound. Another flood of malevolence, this time with desperate frustration and panic, and Ren dropped low, crouching over Hux- who blinked owlishly when Ren actually growled, low and deep in his throat.** _

“Yes. You saved my life. Remember?”

Hux pulled something from his pocket and held out his hand. Draped over the gloved palm was a leather collar, simple, black, with a black metal locking buckle. 

“And I asked if I could keep you.”

_**“Now. What about this?” Hux asked, touching the collar around Ren’s neck. “Will you leave it on? Or are you not ready for that?”** _

He paused, looking at the collar, something in his mind almost audibly clicking. 

_**“….He controlled, but didn’t exploit. I trust him…. I… I want to tell him yes when I return.”** _

Yes. He remembered now. The feeling of occupying someone else’s body didn’t immediately fade, but he started to feel less disconnected, the dizzying feeling of floating in a body he didn’t own starting to dissipate. 

“Hux,” he breathed. Hux’s brow smoothed out a bit, his eyes watching him closely. 

“Yes. Hux. I offered to collar you, make you mine, because I enjoy your company, Kylo Ren. I like giving you a safe way to surrender, like you asked.”

_**“Tell me why you want this, Ren,” Hux murmured. “You're strong, powerful, and could easily bend others to your will. Why do you ache so fiercely to be broken instead?”** _

**_Ren was quiet at first, enjoying the feel of Hux's mouth biting and kissing at his neck as he considered his answer._ **

**_“Every day is about control,” he finally said. “Controlling my reception of thoughts around me, the Force constantly a part of my life, having to judge, weigh and think about how I respond and act for the Supreme Leader. It's all a constant act of control, inside and out, and I never know if I’m doing well, if I’m good enough. All I know is that I have to keep doing what I do. I just...”_ **

**_He sagged as Hux ran a hand over his cheek, closing his eyes._ **

**__** _I just want to let go and let someone else take the reins. I want someone to tell me I did well._

_**Hux kissed him again, biting harder, drawing blood, and Ren moaned into Hux's mouth.** _

**_“Say you're mine, then,” Hux growled, shoving a leg between Ren's knees, pressing his thigh against the Knight's groin. “Give yourself to me, Kylo Ren.”_ **

Was that his name? Something teased at him. Ben. Ren. Kylo. Solo. Organa. Vader. Amidala. Naberrie. Too many names. Which was his?

“Your name is Kylo Ren,” Hux said firmly, placing a cool gloved hand against his cheek, cupping his jaw. “Your name is Kylo Ren, you are the Master of the Knights of Ren, and you are in your quarters on the Battlecruiser Finalizer, my flag ship.”

Another mental click, and it felt as though his feet were sliding into his boots, and he was making contact with the ground again. His fingers flexed, and they were _his_ again. He looked into Hux’s eyes and felt a rush of vertigo as he slammed back into his body, and was disoriented all over again as he mentally reconnected with his body- and himself. 

He reached for Hux’s mind with his own, desperate for the General’s calm thought processes, for the order and calm precision of his consciousness. There was a slight resistance, and this time, as raw and open as he was, Kylo _felt_ the wall Hux kept around his mind before Hux let it down, and let Kylo in.

Hux’s thoughts ran over him, smooth, cool, in shades of black, silver, pale white-blue and dark greys. His mind was as quiet and calm as his room, as well ordered and controlled as the bridge. Hux pulled him in and wrapped Kylo in his thoughts that began to warm, ever so slightly, as he sent mental sweet-nothings of reassurance to the dissociating man. 

What made it all the better, was how _safe_ Hux’s mind was. There were walls around his inner thoughts, walls Kylo couldn’t get past, but that didn’t matter. The walls around _him_ and the parts of Hux’s mind that he allowed Kylo to access kept him in, kept him close, with a clear exit, should either of them need to separate. 

Inside this sanctum of Hux’s mind, Kylo truly opened his eyes and saw just how complex Armitage had built the defences of his thoughts and consciousness. The dark space of his room faded away, as did Armitage himself, and they were now in a room with muted blue walls, black carpets, and furniture of harsh black and silver angles with plush black and blue cushions. Harsh, intimidating couture in design, but comfortable in function. Just like Armitage’s quarters. 

There were multiple doors- one open to blinding white-blue, the consciousness that Kylo had entered from, the bond they shared as a pathway into Armitage’s mind. The other doors, he could see with a glance, were strong, and locked. It was black, so dark it nearly absorbed the light around it, and just looking at it, Kylo could tell the door was made of a matte metal that would be so cold, it would burn to touch it. The inner sanctum was not accessible to anyone but Armitage.

Armitage.

Kylo looked over to see him on the couch, greatcoat gone, tunic off, no gloves, no boots, or even socks. Just black pants, and a sleeveless black under-shirt. He patted the cushion beside him, and Kylo fell onto the couch, immediately placing his head in Armitage’s lap. Bare fingers slid through his hair, ran over his cheekbone and along his jaw before repeating the motions. 

“I’m here,” he said softly. 

“No,” Kylo said, eyes still looking around. “ _ **I’m**_ here.”

“Irrelevant,” Armitage replied dismissively, but his tone was gentle, even a tad amused.

“How did you do this?” Kylo asked in wonder. “I’ve heard of the concept of memory palaces, but this is different. I can’t see past this room.”

“I don’t know,” Armitage admitted, still stroking Kylo’s hair. “I was taught to make a memory palace by Gallius Rax. The basics, anyway, and I expanded upon them through research. He said it was the best way to keep your memories strong and accessible. I know the locked rooms, and the opening of them is called partitioning, but I have done that since I was old enough to remember. I can’t tell you how I do it.”

“This is how Snoke found out about us. Not through you, because you’ve partitioned your secret thoughts away. He found out through me, because I can’t keep him out,” Kylo breathed. 

The hand paused its stroking. 

“He knows?” His tone was quiet, cold. Afraid. 

“He doesn’t approve,” Kylo said simply. “Not about the sex, he doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t approve of my submission.”

The encounter came back to him in a rush, and Kylo sat up, eyes wide.

“We can’t do this any more,” he blurted. “He… he said for your sake, we can’t.”

Armitage looked at him carefully, his face unreadable, but Kylo sensed something stirring behind one of the locked doors. He was thinking and keeping it from him. It was incredible, seeing it first hand. 

Kylo fought to keep the chill from running down his spine as the sound of _something_ moved against the door, rattling it a bit. There was something treacherous, something dangerous hiding in Armitage’s mind, and it was close to coming out. Whether the thought was aimed at him or Snoke, there was no way of telling, but the air coming from the door was _cold._

“No, I understand. We’ve let this get of hand. We should step back from this. Enough distractions.”

It was matter-of-fact, simple, curt, professional and no vitriol, nothing personal was in Armitage’s voice. If the door hadn’t rattled behind them, Kylo would think that the statement was light, and resigned, accepting. 

But the rattling said otherwise- more so, the screeching of claws against the metal, and a low, keening growl that sounded behind the door. 

Kylo curled his fingers in Armitage’s shirt. 

“All of it?”

A look, a twitch rippled over Armitage’s face in time with another cacophony of noise from behind the locked door, before his expression became that professional mask again. He covered Kylo’s hand with his. 

“I think it best, yes,” he said softly. “If we allow anything, we will end up allowing it all, and will fall back into it. I won’t risk our lives and the goals of the First Order.”

The rattling increased in frequency and volume.

Kylo couldn’t argue this, but rage simmered in him. It was all fine and well for Armitage to fall into the pragmatic role of General of the First Order war machine that did not look kindly on individualism, but Kylo was not one of his men. He was the Master of the Knights of Ren and was not accustomed to being denied by anyone- including himself. 

He started, the room disappearing, no longer on the couch, and found himself on his own hard bed, leaning against Hux- who was kissing him. 

_I wish we could_ , Hux murmured softly as he moved his lips over Ren’s, gently nibbling. _But it isn’t just for my sake, for the goals of the First Order._

Ren clutched Hux’s tunic front, turning nibbling to full on biting. 

_It’s for you, too_ , Hux said, causing Ren to stop and pull away, blinking. 

_What?_

_I see what he does to you, with just regular training. When you come back, you’re a mess of migraines, of fatigue and pain. You barely eat, you’re filthy. I spent just as much time nursing you back to health as I did fucking yo_ u, Hux said bluntly. 

His eyes met Ren’s, and his brow knitted slightly. He moved his hand to Ren’s jaw and ran a thumb over his cheek. 

_I don’t want to see what would happen to you if we continued this._

_I thought this was only about domination and sex,_ Ren said, his cheeks flushing.

 _It is_ , Hux said, almost too quickly and sharply. _You are important and a counterpoint to my own authority. I won’t have my actions causing your demise._

He gave Ren one more lingering kiss. 

_So, we have to stop_. 

Ren tried to give a smirk, but it fell short.

_No farewell fuck?_

Hux gave him a sad smile. 

“We can’t,” he said out loud. 

Ren stood up as Hux did, and followed him to the door. Hux hesitated, then looked over his shoulder as he straightened his tunic, licking his lips instead of wiping them clean. 

“Get some rest, eat something. If we both take care of ourselves during this… perhaps in the future...”

Ren shoved his way back into Hux’s mind where he knew his statement would be safe. Hux staggered, but let him in again. 

_In the future, if we can… I want…_

Kylo strangled on his words, and Armitage waited patiently. 

_Yes,_ Kylo blurted. _If we ever can, yes. I want you to keep me._

He withdrew, leaving Hux to stare at him from the doorway, an unreadable look on his face. Just before he was fully extracted from Hux’s mind, he heard a slamming against the inner door where the monster that was Hux’s treachery, treason and mutiny raged against the decision made for them by another- and he heard it snarl and howl in a way that made him truly afraid of what Hux was hiding.

If Hux felt, or heard Kylo’s fear of the thing unwinding inside the locked sanctum, he gave no sign. 

_I’ll keep that in mind_ , he replied, _until I can keep you, Kylo._

He turned and left, and Ren sagged against the door after it shut, gathering himself. After a few minutes, he turned and went to take a hot shower. He allowed himself to take as long as he wanted, indulging in the warm water. If he couldn’t have Armitage Hux, he wouldn’t deny himself anything else. 

Striding from the ‘fresher, leaving wet footprints on the tile, he towelled off his hair, water still running down his naked body in rivulets over his broad chest and toned stomach. He paused at his bedside, towel draped over his head as he picked up his datapad. He’d meant to order a new mattress, some pillows and a decent blanket, but his commlink was beeping. 

Ren lifted a brow and picked it up, towel still draped over his head as he keyed it on. Immediately, the face he’d wanted to see- aged, but still the face he wanted to see- was on the display. 

Mara Jade, to her credit, didn’t so much as flinch upon seeing her contact naked. She simply turned her eyes up, her nose crinkling a bit, making a few of her freckles more obvious. Ren lifted his comm to spare her eyes. 

“Mara Jade,” he said levelly. “Or do you still prefer Emperor’s Hand?”

“What do you want,” came her reply- not a question, and her voice was just as level, cool and modulated. 

“I wanted to speak to you. I think you’re related to someone I’m close to, and I need confirmation.”

Mara blinked. 

“I have no relatives. This is a poor game, stranger.”

“This file from the Imperial records says otherwise. Mentions parents and a sister.”

Mara narrowed her eyes. 

“Who. And who is the person you’re asking for?”

“I’d prefer to ask in person,” Ren replied, pulling the towel from his head. “Because I believe that they inherited the ability to partition their mind from you.”

A long pause. 

“Are they Force Sensitive?” she asked finally. 

“If they are, they hide it well, possibly even from themselves. If not Force Sensitive, then they’re an anomaly,” he replied.

“So _you’re_ Force Sensitive, then.”

No use denying it. 

“Yes. I am.”

Mara didn’t ask. She knew better. She simply nodded. 

“In that case, if you want to meet, we meet on neutral ground, Knight of Ren, and I will bring a ysalamir.”

“I was hoping you would, actually. We encountered them earlier and I want to know more about them when they’re not being used by assassins.”

Mara smiled at last, but it was sardonic. 

“The last time I saw that combo, it was utilised by Thrawn. Fine. I’ll send you coordinates and you can meet me there. Bring this… relative, but no one else. I’ll bring Karrde.”

“Karrde?” Ren felt a slight twinge of panic. Would Karrde know him? Would Mara tell him and would he put the two and two together, and report back to _her?_

“No,” he said flatly. “Karrde deals in intel, and he won’t know about this.”

“Karrde is my _husband,_ the only man I trust, aside from one other, and he’s gone off the map- if he hasn’t passed away by now,” Mara retorted. “I bring him, or I don’t come.”

“An intel broker and ysalamiri? You’re asking too much.”

“Then have your associate bring a weapon. I’m assuming they have one?”

Ren flashed back to the monomolecular blades in Hux’s sleeves, pulled out and slashing throats in seconds, the sniper rifle with near unerring aim, and he allowed a smile.

“Fine. We have a deal.”

“See you there.”

Mara disconnected, and Ren sent a tentative thought to Hux. 

_I have a mission for the two of us, to give you closure, and possibly to teach me to hide from Snoke as you do._

_Just let me know when, Ren. I will accompany you._


	17. Anomaly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sloane is concerned about the reports- or lack thereof- coming from Hux about the First Order's progress. Hux has a revelation about his bloodlines, gets an explanation for his odd survival skills, and Does Not Like It.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Cameos! I promise, they're not just inserted for filler, they have a Purpose™

Dinner had been going well.

Had.

The dishes were seasoned to perfection, the meat utterly tender and falling apart at the touch of a fork, the result of long marination, and even longer simmering in thick, rich sauces. The bread was warm, soft, and spread with thick layers of salty, creamy butter. Cheese of various textures, colours and flavours- all rich- sat on platters to be dipped into sauce or eaten with bites of meat. The wine was chilled and aired properly, and the bouquet went perfectly with the main course. Even the dish of mushrooms sauteed in butter and spices was going over well, even though most of the family wasn’t keen on non-meats or non-dairy foodstuffs.

Chatter had been light hearted, comfortable and amicable. The pleasant mingling of conversation and the clink of cutlery on plates made for a warm, enjoyable ambiance. Topics varied between compliments on the meal, idle gossip, talk of fashion, and discussion of family concerns.

All in all, a calm, quiet, and well-to-do dinner, if Aristocra Mitth’ail’inrokini had anything to say about it- and she would, later, to her wife. For now, she simply turned to look at her spouse, her glowing red eyes brightening considerably as she marvelled- not for the first time that evening- how resplendent Rae looked in white and burgundy.

Rae Sloane had her hair pulled back into an elegant bun, which only accentuated the white streaming back from her temples. Her face was mostly free of cosmetics, save for a bit of tinted gloss on her full lips and some rich black eyeliner to enhance the dark beauty of her brown eyes. A slight dusting of gold powder had been brushed over her high cheekbones, bringing out the undertones of gold in her gorgeous brown skin, and Thailin couldn’t stop gazing at the highlights it brought out.

Her tunic was high necked, sleeveless and severe in its elegance, with a simple and almost utilitarian cut to the silhouette. The cut of her slacks had a feminine lean that flattered Rae’s athletic build and long legs to counter the harsh cut of the tunic, however. It was white, trimmed in burgundy, and a matching burgundy belt with silver brocade sat on her hips. The cloth had a slight shimmering quality to it that caught the light when Rae moved, and made her movements graceful, almost hypnotising. A characteristic Thailin had purposely chosen the cloth for.

There had been comments that perhaps Rae should have worn a gown to this affair, but Thailin refused- her wife was always uncomfortable in dresses, her military training made her feel confined and restricted in skirts. That aside, Thailin loved that Rae looked best when comfortable, and she felt comfortable in more utilitarian clothing. Rae Sloane wore what she wanted, and her beloved wife would have it no other way.

Thalin mirrored her match in a burgundy gown with white trim- though her dress had flowing sleeves and left her shoulders bare, with full, billowing skirts. She wore no belt, but had a capelet that she wore in to dinner, and had removed once they sat down to eat. Her blue black hair was braided, coiled and pinned into place at the back of her head, with tight curls artfully arranged around her face. Like her wife, she wore little cosmetics, only some gloss on her lips and eyeliner to enhance her eyes.

Dinner was rarely such an affair, but tonight was special, so the two of them had dressed up, delighting in dolling each other up in silk and curls. Rae still didn’t understand all the nuances of Chiss politics, but her wit and sharp tongue, along with her military mind kept her from being a target by crueler individuals who might try to sharpen their own tongues on her.

Being a Grand Admiral in the Imperial Navy, the same rank as Mitth’raw’nuruodo, was also a bonus. The Chiss respected military, and those who climbed the ranks through achievements, smarts and experience. It had only taken a few experimental stabbing conversations for it to be known that Rae Sloane of the Imperial Remnant- and later, the First Order- was not soft, and made of something far harder than Chiss were used to.

It was one of many reasons Thailin adored her.

Fortunately, no one was making stabs at Rae tonight. They had much more interesting people to badger this evening.

Ambassador Vanto looked relieved as well. Despite having been with the Ascendancy for decades now, he still had the unfortunate tendency of being targeted by some of the more vicious of the Relatives. Even now, despite age having given him a dignified cut to his tan face and slight peppering of his dark brown hair that was a sign of excellence in Chiss, he always seemed to be uncomfortable. Social anxiety was never something that truly went away, it seemed.

It wasn’t just relief, however, but genuine happiness that made Vanto look more comfortable this evening. He was even smiling between bites of meat or sips of wine as he chatted animatedly. Hardly surprising, given their guests.

“Uncle,” Thailin called from her place at the head of the table. “Did you ever finish repairing and restoring your ship? I should very much like to see it one day before you and your match disappear again.”

“Has your match not allowed you to tour the Eclipse, then, my dear niece?”

“Of course!” Thailin replied brightly. “But it is a different class of Star Destroyer, and not hers, though I very much would have liked to see her ship. Sadly, that is not possible. I still should like to see the ship you made your career from, dear Uncle.”

“Her very name still makes people lose a shade or two of colour from their faces,” Rae said in agreement. “Considering she was never found after the odd circumstances of her disappearance.”

“Does it, now?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s reply was slightly amused as he lifted a brow, his glass halfway to his lips. Possibly to hide a smile, Thailin thought with fondness as she looked her uncle over again.

Grand Admiral Thrawn still looked as imposing as ever, wearing a black CEDF uniform despite the fact that he was officially “retired.” If Thailin was honest, he might even look more so with how he’d aged. His hair was still sleek, blue black and swept back professionally, but grey and white had begun to touch his temples- clearly a waste, many lamented, that he’d had no children.

His lean face was still cut with the gorgeous cheekbones that had made him and his late brother so desirable, his skin still smooth, save for a few lines here and there. Laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, a permanent frown line between his brows, the lines around his mouth slightly more defined. Thailin was positive the frown line had been acquired during his time with the Empire, and she suspected the laugh lines were newer, and caused by the man sitting at his side.

Eli Vanto had been welcomed amongst the Chiss on Thrawn’s word and recommendation, but Jorj Mittheo’Car’das was more than welcome. He was family, and had a much longer history with the Chiss than Vanto did.

Thailin watched as the bronze skinned man rested his hand nonchalantly on Thrawn’s forearm, politely keeping quiet during the conversation as he ate. Despite the appearance of being preoccupied with his meal, Thailin could see his green eyes focusing hard on nothing. He was reading the room, reading cues, and keeping an eye on the mood of all involved. A slight pang of sorrow replaced the fondness in Thailin’s chest.

Car’das was a paranoid man at times- he had every reason to be- and even now, he found it hard to relax. A fact that saddened Thailin, as she’d wanted everyone to be comfortable and secure at this dinner.

As if feeling her focus on him, Car’das looked up, green eyes meeting glowing red. He gave her a sly wink, a smile, then returned to his meal, his free hand tracing fingertips over Thrawn’s sleeve. Thailin felt a small bit of relief wash over her. He was fine, just being cautious. As always.

“Yes, Grand Admiral,” Rae said. “Before the Battle of Jakku, whispers of the Chimaera would have the staunchest of Republic veterans going white in the face.”

She gave a bitter smile.

“I like to think that had you been able to be there at Endor, had that Jedi whelp not interfered with the Seventh Fleet, the Empire might not have fallen,” she said, placing emphasis on the blaming of the Jedi to make it clear she did not blame him for the outcome.

Thrawn did smile this time, but it was cold, thin, and slight. It screamed of bitter memories.

“The Empire may still have lost if I had been there,” he said calmly. “I told the Emperor that allocating all the Empire’s resources to massive structures instead of a large, flexible fleet would not be the wisest course of action. Even the Super-Star Destroyers were too much. Bigger does not mean invulnerable.”

The smile faded, and his eyes darkened, his face angry- the anger of a fire long banked to embers that refused to go out, nursed over time by the breath of regret.

“Not only did he abandon my TIE Defender project completely when the Seventh Fleet was hijacked, but Tarkin abandoned it as well, both in favour of the Death Star, and the command of it- and built a second one.”

“I think it was a good thing he did it,” Jorj put in quietly, and his calm tone was an instant balm to his embittered spouse. “And it was good you weren’t there to deal with the fallout. The Empire was becoming too corrupt, unstable and cruel. When a body of power begins to fall to slavery, it’s time for it to end. The destruction of the Death Stars was a signal that a bad galactic body was finally ready to collapse and make way for new ones.”

His eyes met Rae’s unapologetically, challengingly. Rae didn’t flinch away. She nodded as she put a bite of meat in her mouth.

“The Empire I rose to power in was that of order and stability, of bringing worlds under one rule to prevent the absolute chaos that had been the Old Republic and the Senate,” she said, wiping her lips. “When the Emperor died, and the war had been lost, there were rogue units that became almost feral in their desire to be in control. I can’t even speak of the horrors that occurred on Kashyyyk and how… twisted the officers had become.”

“Is that why you didn’t send any help when there was an infiltration and revolt?” Vanto asked.

“Partly,” Rae admitted. “The other part was that I was not under authorisation to send reinforcements. The infiltration and breakout of prisoners was part of Gallius Rax’s overall scheme to end the New Republic. It’s how those brainwashed prisoners were able to get close to high-ranked authority on Chandrila. I hadn’t known they were brainwashed at the time. I only knew I had to be there on the pretense of peace.”

Thrawn nodded, understanding. Of course he did. It was no secret that Rax had loved Thrawn’s tactics and had used the man’s methods of looking at a FAR bigger picture to bring tinier obscure details together that others didn’t understand.

“And that is what you’re attempting with the First Order?” Thrawn asked. “A fleet based power focused on stable unified control?”

“That’s the goal of the First Order, yes,” Rae replied, feeling a tiny edge of discomfort. “Or, it was. You know about Snoke.”

Rae refused to call him Supreme Leader. No one in the Chiss Ascendancy would. Not even to his mutilated face. The Ruling Families had made that clear during their talks with the deformed Force User. Snoke wasn’t even allowed in Chiss Space, nor was his flag ship. The Ascendancy felt the Supremacy had tested the limits, if not violated, the terms of the agreement between them and the First Order. The main term of which was no superweapons were to be made in Chiss space, or with resources gathered within Chiss Space.

The Ascendancy had enough to worry about after their skirmish with the Grysk forces that had caused enough damage to leave them licking their wounds for a time, and they still had their hackles up as a result. Their Sky Walkers, their precious Force sensitive navigator children, were now under a closer, more protective eye than ever before, and not many scouting trips were being made with Snoke lurking outside their borders. The last thing needed was another threat to the Chiss, especially from a supposed ally, and even more so to their most precious and coveted of citizens.

Snoke had bent the rules by making a ship larger than anything created, even that of the Eclipse class super-dreadnoughts. Sixty meters wide, almost fourteen meters long, and capable of docking multiple Resurgent-class battlecruisers, as well as manufacturing them. It was, for all its capability, a mobile capital. When the ship’s construction had been discovered, the Ascendancy had been furious, but there was nothing they could do, as the ship was being made just outside Ascendancy territory, in unclaimed space near newborn stars bright enough to hide the ship and its construction.

The fight between Rae and her son that had followed had been explosive, and they hadn’t spoken for years. It wasn’t until he came forward to seek her forgiveness, and admit he hadn’t had a choice, and that control of the First Order had been completely wrested from him, did she speak to him again.

The Ruling Families had warned them about the dangers of allowing a Force user to have a position of power in any government, that it was dangerous and a disaster waiting to happen. Given the ultimatum that Snoke had presented, they’d had little choice, and quietly thanked the stars for previous knowledge- and acquisition- of ysalamir.

It was the safe return of the Seventh Fleet and its Grand Admiral for the position, or Snoke would have destroyed the Chimaera, along with her crew and commander, and the rest of the fleet by forcing them into the gravity well of a field of black holes at the galaxy’s edge. A slow, but agonising death.

Thailin shuddered to think of her beloved Uncle, who despite his military appearance, reminded her so much of her father, being torn apart by multiple vectors of gravity. They’d thought him dead since the report of the Chimaera’s disappearance on Lothal, and when he’d appeared years later, the Mitth family had rejoiced. They’d already lost one of the famed brothers- Thailin’s father, Mitth’ras’safis- to the disaster that had been Outbound Flight. To lose Thrawn because of Rebels trying to reform the Republic that had indirectly caused Thrass’s death….

It was closer to reason to bring war than the Ascendancy was comfortable with. The main factor that stayed the hand of war was that in both cases, the offending events didn’t happen in Chiss territory.

It also didn’t help that Snoke had taken interest in their Sky Walkers, their daughters with the Third Sight. It had almost been a political and actual disaster when Snoke’s offer to teach the young Force gifted Chiss to harness their talents had been denied. Snoke had all but threatened that not investing in allying their forces as well as Force Sensitives would not play out well for the Chiss. It was that veiled threat that had the Ascendancy closing their borders to him, and only allowing Armitage Hux, and Captain Phasma direct audiences with the Ascendancy in general.

The Chiss were also suspicious after having the experience of how other bodies of government, other species, twisted the minds of Force users. Ar’alani still remembered the bruises around Thrawn’s neck after Jorus C’baoth had tried to choke him to death across space between ships during combat. If a so-called ‘peaceful religious group’ could churn out leaders such as C’baoth, who was to say that a non-religious, power hungry Force user such as Snoke wouldn’t be worse?

It was natural, given their history, to be distrustful of Snoke, and bitter towards Jedi in general, and there were rumblings in the Ruling Families to end their treaty with the First Order with the change in leadership. After Armitage had informed her that he’d been cast down from his rank of Grand Marshall, and was now simply General, forced to bend knee to Snoke, with little to no control over the main decisions of the Order’s plans, Rae found herself constantly requesting reports from Armitage to assuage their worries, and keep things amicable.

Armitage’s silence as of the past few months, however, and his almost-evasive answers about their immediate plans to seize power and overthrow the resistance to Centrists had her concerned, and she found herself thinking, yet again that she needed to call him. She almost felt guilty that she’d gotten a member of the Secret Police to keep tabs on him, but if he wasn’t going to tell her what was going on, and was being quiet after Snoke had usurped him….

She was worried about her son. That was all. At least that’s what she told herself.

“More than you know,” Thrawn said evasively, bringing Rae out of her thoughts, and she saw Car’das tighten his fingers around Thrawn’s forearm, making small soothing circles with his thumb.

“More than you’ll tell us, you mean,” Vanto corrected, but his voice was low- not that it mattered in a room full of sharp-eared Chiss. Thrawn gave Vanto a small half smile.

“I can barely register the Wild Space accent anymore,” he remarked.

“Happens when you only speak Sy Bisti, Minnisiat and mangled Cheunh,” Vanto shot back with good humour. “I still don’t know how you speak it so well, Car’das.”

Car’das flashed a smile, his white teeth brilliant behind his goatee.

“Private lessons,” the former Loyalty Officer said simply, turning his gaze to Thrawn, his smile turning affectionate.

“Finally, a change of subject from that abomination,” muttered a voice to Thailin’s right.

Kleoni’kola’inrokini, Thailin’s father, was glowering slightly as he forked a piece of meat into his mouth. His long hair, streaked with silver and white, was pulled back from his thin face. Thailin winced, remembering how much fuller it had been when she was young. Losing Thrass had destroyed part of him, and he’d been suffering ever since. He resented Force users more than anyone else at the table, and talk of them tended to make him irrationally angry.

Thailin said nothing, but leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then feigned shock and dismay at the stain of lip gloss she left there. She lifted her napkin to her father’s cheek and wiped at it tenderly, fussing over him. The overdone show of affection worked- his scowl melted away and a tired, but loving smile curled his lips.

“There’s my darling father,” Thailin chirped. “I hate it when he disappears and that old curmudgeon takes his place.”

He laughed softly and gently patted the back of her wrist.

“Darling daughter.”

“I miss him, too, Daddy, but being crass at a dinner party would make him sad, you know that.”

He was about to reply, when Rae’s comm went off- a single, soft beep. There were only two people who had her comm frequency that could set it off when she had it set to privacy mode, and Thailin knew this. She turned to her wife, eyes wide.

“Who?” She mouthed. Rae glanced at the comm and frowned, her dark brows knitting.

“Soan’ari’safis,” she murmured. “I have to take this.”

Thailin’s eyes dimmed in worry. Soan’ari’safis was the agent Rae had hired to look into First Order movements- particularly the Finalizer’s. The flagship of her son. Anaeris was very professional, and normally wouldn’t send messages when he knew a gathering was going on. For him to message her now….

“Forgive me for interrupting the flow of conversation and dinner,” Rae said formally, getting to her feet and bowing her head. “I hope this will not take too much of my time so that I may return and continue to be a proper hostess.”

Formal apology given, and receiving nods of acknowledgement in return, Rae pushed in her chair, and hurried from the room.

Thailin chewed on her lip, worried, and annoyed as the lull of conversation began to stagnate a bit, the room falling silent- it was rude to speculate aloud what might have drawn their hostess away, and curiosity was too strong to drift back to previous conversation. As a result, tension settled over the table. Thailin sighed.

And dinner had been going so well.

“Shall I call for dessert?”

——

“You’re sure of this?” Rae asked.

The holo figure of Soan’ari’safis nodded. His young face was an emotionless mask, but Rae knew the agent was stressed, had to be, with this news. She sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her temple.

Shipments. Countless shipments. Excavation equipment. Construction. Offloading of material from the Supremacy to the Finalizer to a planet whose name had only been legend to a military member such as herself- Illum, of all places. Parts which primary uses at which she could only guess at, but had a sinking feeling about. What was her son doing?

“I wish I brought better news, Grand Admiral,” Anaris said grimly. “But based on the data, and given the precedent set by the Supremacy, I can only assume a large weapon is being installed there.”

Rae closed her eyes, an awful feeling washing over her. And their conversation at dinner had _just_ been about the fallacy of superweapons in favour of a large, flexible fleet. This was the Empire all over again. It practically _reeked_ of the Emperor. This wasn’t what she’d wanted for the First Order. It wasn’t what she and her son and the Ascendancy had agreed on, outlined in the treaties. What was he thinking? Or was this Snoke?

_Or what if I’m losing Armitage to Snoke?_

“Should I continue watching?” Anaris asked, breaking into her thoughts. She opened her eyes.

“No. Don’t put yourself at risk,” she replied. “Thank you for what you’ve brought me, but don’t risk anything further. Come home.”

Anaris considered, his head tilting ever so slightly, but finally inclined his head.

“Very well, Rae Mittheo’Sloane. I will return, and give you full report.”

“Thank you, Soan’ari’safis.”

He ended the holocall, and Rae closed her eyes again.

“Armitage, what are you doing?”

“Match of mine?”

Rae turned to see Thailin in the doorway, looking concerned. Rae beckoned her over, and the Aristocra swept over to her side, sitting beside her. She took her gloved hands in her own and pressed them against her lips.

“Everything all right?” Thailin asked softly. Rae said nothing, handing the datapad to her wife.

“You tell me,” Rae said simply.

Thailin looked over the report, then looked at Rae.

“You should show my uncle this,” she said quietly. “He suspected something was going on.”

Rae gnawed her lip.

“He won’t be happy. This could be enough to break alliances between the Ascendancy and the First Order for good,” she said quietly.

“My uncle’s happiness with a situation does not decide on large political matters, as he is retired,” Thailin said sternly. “The other Aristocra and I make those decisions. Not him.”

“He’s not retired and we both know it. In any case, his opinion is heavily weighted,” Rae countered.

“Yes, the Empire of the Hand, I know, but he’s not actively heading it- Kres’ten’tarthi and his Match, Parck are. Irrelevant to Ascendancy politics, as this would make him consider measures not supported by Chiss law,” Thailin returned. “Again. He does not make decisions, only gives advice based on his military experience. Advice I would like you to get first, before this comes to light.”

She levelled her gaze at Rae, her expression firm and stony.

“You also need to talk to our son about this, and find out what the stars he thinks he’s doing.”

That brought a small smile to Rae’s lips. _Our son._

“I will call him immediately,” she said, reaching for her comm. “Do give my apologies to the party.”

Thailin leaned forward as Rae keyed in Armitage’s frequency, and pressed her lips to her wife’s gold dusted cheek.

“I have made good my exit for the moment. Let us find out together what Armitage has to say about this.”

The comm pinged, then picked up almost immediately- no visual, just audio, and there was the sound of spacecraft in the background.

“I said no calls,” growled a voice in the distance from the other end.

“It’s Grand Admiral Sloane, you asinine twit, I will not ignore her calls,” came Armitage’s voice, curling with disdain.

“Ah, my son is busy, I hear,” Rae said into the comm.

“My apologies, Mother,” his voice came back. “Is this urgent?”

“Is there a reason you cannot talk?” Rae asked. The voice had sounded familiar….

“I am with Kylo Ren. He has… he has someone I need to meet, apparently. We are meeting without the permission or knowledge of Snoke, so we must be discrete.”

That got Rae’s attention. Her son rebelling against Snoke? This held promise.

“Who?” she asked.

There was a very obvious and long hesitation.

“A relative. Of Máthair’s.”

That definitely got Rae’s attention. As far as anyone knew, Angelica’s sister was dead, taken away at a young age and never heard from again. The official record was that she’d gone in for training to be one of the first “Long Term” Loyalty Officers, but that program hadn’t lasted long, as it broke the candidates. The missing sister was written off as such, and considered dead, or MIA.

“You’re sure?”

“Kylo found her records in the old Imperial Archives, but I can’t say anything else, not until we know for sure. Snoke… he can read Kylo’s mind, we have to do things very carefully.”

But not his. Rae knew this. She knew, because of the rants, the tirades, the pacing and cursing and vehement prattling from Armitage as he spat and hissed like an angry Loth-cat about how Snoke had taken everything from him. She knew because he spoke of his anger at being pushed from his rank as Grand Marshall, how it was his birthright, his destiny, his PLACE.

Yet Snoke had never seemed to show knowledge of the treacherous thoughts that were in all definition of the word, treasonous. He had told her how he longingly imagined having a lightsaber of his own hidden in the sleeve of his coat that he could draw out and fling into the deformed head of the Supreme Leader who had taken his rightful place as the grotesque figure belittled him and his efforts. He’d confided in her that he often fingered the monomolecular blades in his coat, wishing he could slit Snoke’s throat with them. He’d also told her that if he wasn’t positive that Snoke would have been able to detect it, he had also considered taking him out in the same way he’d had Brendol killed- the dangerous bite of a Parnassos beetle.

Yet he had not been slammed to the floor or wall, had not been choked. As if his thoughts were not there, not happening, not being thought.

“We think she holds the key to why he cannot read mine,” her son said. “We’re going to find out.”

All thoughts of the project and its horrifying implications, all intentions of a confrontation melted away.

“Be careful,” she said. “I still have questions for you, concerns I need reassured.”

“I will. When I return. I promise, I’ll tell you.”

The call ended, and all Thailin and Rae could do was stare at each other and wonder what all of it meant.

\--------------

_You’re sure of this._

It wasn’t a question, but it was the umpteenth time it’d come out of Hux’s mouth. Ren sighed yet again and turned his chair away from the viewport to help with the double vision he was dealing with. They were halfway in Hux’s mind, having their conversations there in the safety of his partitions. They weren’t taking any chances with this, lest Snoke find out.

 _Yes,_ he replied as he turned in his seat to look at Hux- his image was blurred between sitting on a black couch and sitting in the copilot’s chair. _She reacted to the name, and seemed keen on meeting you. She also has red hair like yours, green eyes and the same complexion, down to nearly identical freckles._

 _Mara Jade, though?_ the reply was incredulous. _The Emperor’s Hand, the only other person aside from Vader and Thrawn who had the Emperor’s ear. Who had more power than Tarkin, and was armed with a lightsaber._

 _A pink lightsaber_ , Ren confirmed, biting back a grin. Hux was bordering slightly on the hysterical in learning he had a direct relative who was a Force user.

_And you think she can teach you how to… hide your mind._

_Partition, yes_ , Ren replied. _Like your locked rooms. Where you keep… something locked away._

 _And it will stay that way,_ Hux said flatly. _Because it will do no one any good to open them._

Ren didn’t say anything to that, simply pulling away just enough to focus back on piloting the shuttle through the atmosphere past the checkpoints, automatically taking vectors sent in from a bored tech. Hux set his jaw, already mentally preparing himself for the multiple decon showers he’d have to take after going out into the streets of Nar Shaddaa. Ren snickered to himself as the disdain radiated from him across their link.

Hux was dressed in decently passable street garb- black pants, leather boots, a high collared tunic and pocketed vest. He’d tousled his hair with a mix of hair paste and colour, making his usually sleek red hair a scruffy mess of mahogany. A blaster was holstered to his thigh, and his blades were tucked into his boots, a holdout blaster tucked alongside the right.

Ren had chosen the outfit and insisted on the holdout blaster- Hux’s own blaster was just as deadly as his sniper rifle, and Hux had shown at the shooting range he was just as skilled with the blaster. However, Ren grew up knowing that having a second weapon was never a bad thing. Hopefully the blades wouldn’t be noticed. He’d seen firsthand how fast Hux could move with one, and didn’t want him unarmed.

At Ren’s suggestion- which Hux had bristled at, even argued against, until Ren pointed out that even in the civilian garb, Hux was as clean and well groomed as any politician or military officer- he had gone a full _two cycles_ without grooming, save for the usual deodorant. He’d drawn the line and not keeping his crotch and ass clean, however, and made sure to change his skivvies multiple times. He’d even rubbed a bit of _engine grease_ on a few spots of his face and neck, then scrubbed at them to make them seem older than they were. Between the grease, the disarray of his hair, and two days of stubble- and the smell of no shower, _not even **one,** in **two** cycles! -_ Hux felt utterly FILTHY.

Ren wouldn’t admit it, because he knew it would only disgust Hux, but he enjoyed seeing him like this- dirty, scruffy, unpolished and not layered in multiple scents of pomade, cologne, soap and shoe polish. He could smell Hux’s natural scent, something he only caught in the bedsheets towards the end of Hux’s two day long rotation between washes. It was rare he smelled just Hux and not the layers of his personal grooming, and he relished it.

Hux’s scent was warm, comforting- it reminded him of slept in beds, of drowsy mumbling in the moments between sleeping and waking, when Hux pushed close to let Ren drape his arm over his waist and rest his hand on his stomach. It also brought to mind the times Hux had let him nap on his couch while he worked, his head resting in Hux’s lap as gloved fingers gently stroked through his hair.

He said nothing about it, because he knew Hux would be repulsed, because how could he be attractive to any of the senses when he was so dishevelled, so _dirty?_ Hux was borderline obsessed with being clean, and Ren had accepted it as one of Hux’s neuroses, part of what made him tick. It was slowly becoming endearing in a frustrating sort of way.

Ren himself was wearing armour, a modified set of his own made to look more like that of a bounty hunter than a Knight of Ren, and lacking the cloak and robes. A blaster was strapped to his waist, the ammo pouch hiding his lightsaber. A bounty hunter and his smuggling pilot companion, if anyone looked closely. Otherwise, the two of them would melt right into the crowd.

“Ready?” Ren asked, pulling on his helmet- a black, modified hunter’s cover. Hux nodded and followed him to the hatchway.

“Let’s find her, and get this over with.”

“She’s close. I can sense the ysalamir she promised to bring. Or rather, the void where it is. This way,” Ren said, turning his helmeted gaze to the south like a hunting canine.

Hux grunted, and followed in Ren’s wake through the crowd, towards a residential area.

It didn’t take them long to find her- or rather, for her to find them. Ren was about to open the door to the arranged meeting place when Hux froze, feeling the barrel of a blaster press to the small of his back.

“Nice and easy, boys. Inside, and drop your weapons by the door, please.”

Hux blinked, and Ren turned his head towards him, feeling Hux’s surprise- until the ysalamiri bubble closed over them, and then he felt nothing at all.

“You sound like her,” Hux blurted as he dropped his blaster on a crate by the door, Ren following suit.

A hand reached out and patted Hux down, the blaster barrel still at his back. The gloved fingers found the holdout blaster and swiped it, dropping it by the other one. As Ren hoped, the monomolecular blades went undetected. But then again, not many people expected anyone to bring a knife to a gun- or lightsaber- fight.

“Lightsaber, too,” Mara Jade said from behind Hux, her hand reaching out for the weapon. Ren sighed, but pulled it out and handed it to her. She made a sound that could only be described as an audible smile of pleasure.

“Okay. Now that we’re all nice and disarmed, tell me what you want,” she demanded, removing her weapon from Hux’s back and pulling away so he could turn to look at her. “Because I-”

She cut off as her eyes met Hux’s and she saw herself in his gaze. She saw his nose, his mouth, the freckles on his nose and cheeks, the sharp cut of his eyes. She followed the line of his jaw, and Ren knew, even without the Force, that she was mentally tracing her own jawline in comparison.

There was no doubt, seeing the two of them together. Hux could pass as her son- or her nephew.

“This mysterious masked figure said he’d found a relative of mine and I thought he was lying,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “But you could-”

“You look like my mother,” Hux cut in. “Angelica Varrin.”

Mara’s sharp green eyes narrowed, but not in suspicion. She was thinking, trying to recollect, and was failing.

“If I have a sister, I do not recall her,” she murmured, starting to circle Hux now, looking him over. “But you could be a son I might have had in another life.”

She stopped in front of him, and looked him in the eye again.

“What’s your name?”

“Armitage Hux,” he replied. Mara snorted, a derisive, but jaded sound.

“Figures I find a possible relative and they’re high ranked military of the current Big Bad in the galaxy. So my supposed nephew is General of the First Order. I can’t bring myself to be surprised.”

She turned her head towards the living room door.

“Karrde,” she called. “Do you have that scanner?”

“I do,” came the smooth, cultured reply, and Talon Karrde stepped into the room, holding a small scanner. Around his shoulders was a framework that allowed a scaly, furry creature to cling just behind his head.

“General.”

“Karrde,” Hux replied curtly. He still hadn’t quite gotten over their last conversation where Karrde had politely refused any offers of alliances between his organisation and the First Order- he also was never a fan of fringe elements in general.

“A bio scanner? I was hoping you’d want to do just that,” Hux said, patting the scanner he’d packed into a pocket on his vest. “I brought my own just in case.”

“We can use both, if you don’t trust mine,” Karrde said helpfully, and Hux pulled his scanner out.

Mara took a swab from the scanner’s kit and whirled it around in her mouth against her inner cheek, Hux doing the same. They both fed their swabs into the scanners, and waited as their DNA was compared. As the machines worked, Mara eyed Ren.

“You ever take your helmet off, or are you going for a Vader aesthetic, because I have to tell you, I knew the guy, and you’re no Vader,” she quipped.

Ren bristled, and Hux shot him a Look. Mara didn’t notice, or pretended not to.

“The helmet stays on,” Ren growled. Mara shrugged dismissively, then turned to Hux.

“So is it always the lot of our family, being the lackey of a Force user, or did you get lucky in the social draw?” she asked, giving Hux a once over.

It was Hux’s turn to bristle, but it was a mixture of annoyance and pride with which he drew himself up.

“The First Order’s military is under my command,” he said without preamble, and Ren cocked his head, surprised that Hux hadn’t blustered and preened over his rank.

“So there’s red hair under that colour. General Hux. My nephew,” Mara drawled. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or if I should pity you, because you’re like me.”

Hux visibly deflated, but didn’t bristle again with rage- there was no insult in Mara’s face, only sympathy tempered from experience.

“Only it isn’t you that has the Force abilities brought to heel like a chained dog,” she continued, her eyes flicking to Ren.

“Mara,” Karrde interrupted. The scanner was beeping. He held it up, lifting his brows in surprise- and a renewed shade of caution.

“It’s a match. You’re related by the maternal mitochondrial line.”

Mara took her scanner and Hux took his. Both read the results at nearly the same speed, lifting their eyes to look at one another. Ren was holding his breath, keeping silent. That meant possibly that Hux had inherited something from her, from their line. Hux wasn’t Force sensitive, not entirely that he could sense, but there was something not entirely normal about him, either.

“Well… Nephew. Now we know, and now you tell me why you needed to know,” Mara said, giving the datapad back to Karrde, who went through the results himself, glee barely contained at the goldmine of data to go through as he retreated, taking the ysalamir further back into the building, and lifting the bubble of emptiness, which had Ren sighing in relief.

“I am able to keep my inner thoughts hidden from Force users,” Hux said without any banter or lead up. “From him, and from Snoke.”

Hux pointed back over his shoulder at Ren.

“And I want to teach him how to do it, too.”

“And we want to know about ysalamir,” Ren put in before he could stop himself. Karrde, who had returned, still going through his datapad, looked up, frowning slightly at Ren’s voice, and the Knight winced at his mistake.

“Ahhh. You’re the one who contacted me to find Mara. The Corellian,” he said slyly.

“Never mind him,” Hux cut him off. “Is it possible? To teach him?”

Mara was looking at her nephew with new eyes, and though her Force abilities weren’t at a current peak, she could still sense that the masked figure was raw with his strength in the Force, and Hux…

She blinked. Her senses had slid over him- saw him, sensed him peripherally, but didn’t catch, didn’t focus. She tried again, and found her focus unable to keep hold on him. It was as though her senses were a magnet trying to focus on him, a magnet of like polarity, or water sliding off an oiled surface. He was there, but encouraged ignorance, like a Jedi mind trick that whispered _You do not see me._

“Partitioning, yes,” she said, her voice odd. “But what you’re doing is completely different, General Hux.”

Hux mirrored her blink, and Ren felt her sense grow tense and confused. He looked in her direction and tried to see what she was seeing, what she was feeling. He found he couldn’t, because she couldn’t focus on the subject of her concern. Just as he’d expected, as he’d hoped, and it made him feel relief that it wasn’t just him- Hux was something else entirely.

“Can you not feel it?” she asked. “Or see it? You’ve surely been around him long enough to notice.”

“The fact that I can’t focus on him? That it took me months to mentally communicate with him- and it gave us both migraines in the process? Can’t hone in and read his thoughts unless he broadcasts them? Yes, which is why we wanted to find you. Maybe you have some idea why,” Ren replied.

Mara was circling Hux again, arms folded over her chest. As she moved around him, Hux was able to take in details of the aunt he never knew he’d had. Red hair, like his, without a strand of grey- perhaps through luck or meticulous dye care, but she didn’t strike him as the type to dye her hair. Freckles like his, the straight nose, sharp and intelligent grey-green eyes. Their jawlines were cut similarly, and the proud arc of their necks may as well have been cut from the same stone. Hux felt he didn’t really need to look at the results again to know she was blood.

“What?” Hux demanded angrily, not liking being the centre of attention for one of the first times in his life, mainly because he didn’t know why he had so much focus on him.

“We can’t focus on you,” Mara said, almost in awe. “The Force, it.... It flows over you, not through you. You… exist in the Force, but you aren’t part of the flow. You make us… look away.”

Hux didn’t know what to say to that, his mouth snapping shut. He flicked his eyes to Mara, who was stroking her lower lip in thought.

“I’ve never heard of the Force doing this in sentient beings before, but if it can happen to the extent of ysalamiri, then there’s no reason it couldn’t happen in a human.”

Hux looked between the two of them, at a loss for words. He wasn’t a Force anomaly, a wielder or anything else of the like. Was he? It sure explained why Snoke hadn’t killed him for his treasonous thoughts, though.

“Fine,” he snapped, impatient. “So how do we make it work to our advantage, and keep Snoke out of his head?”

“First, we need to see just how your abilities work.”

Mara glanced at Karrde.

“I have an idea. Go get Sturm and Drang,” she said with a grin. “I bet they’ll enjoy the exercise.”

Karrde let a smirk curl his lips, then he disappeared through the door that led further into the apartment- that Ren suspected led into a private hidden hangar.

“Sturm? Drang? What are they? Who are they?” Hux asked.

“Ever heard of vornskr? You’re about to meet a pair,” Mara replied, still grinning. “Come on, nephew. We’ll test the scope of your abilities with a pair of old Force hunters.”

Hux didn’t have time to respond- he knew about vornskr, he’d called Ren one. The last thing he saw was a blur of fangs and claws rushing at him with snarls and cackling purrs. The two beasts paused, considered him, then skirted right past him towards Ren, who held them at bay with a last minute Force shield. The canids snapped their jaws, snarled and slavered at Ren as they strained against the shield. Mara laughed.

“See? They knew you were there, but went after him instead,” she pointed out, sounding delighted.

“You almost sound like you half expected that not to work,” Ren snarled, still working to hold back the angry vornskr- but secretly admiring their ferocity and sleek forms with their long legs, svelte fur and sharp teeth. Beautiful predators, he thought, and suddenly remembered how Hux had called him one of these. He liked it, he found, and approved greatly.

“Well, we’re all learning here,” Mara said brightly. “Karrde, call them back. You, go stand next to my nephew.”

“Armitage,” Hux said. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly wanted her to call him by name, but a part of him, possibly the small, scared little cadet he’d been on Jakku all those years ago was looking for something he couldn’t describe all over again.

Mara looked at him appraisingly.

“Okay, you, stand next to Armitage,” she replied as Karrde pulled the vornskr’s leashes, tugging them back. Ren stood next to Hux, close enough so that their arms touched, and the effect was immediate.

Both vornskr stopped straining against their leashes, ears pricking forward, swivelling this way and that as they scented the air, noses pointed at Ren and Hux, but clearly not sensing them in the way that had riled up their hunting instincts. Sturm whined low in his throat and nudged Strang’s neck with his snout, clearly confused. Strang ignored his brother and pushed his cold nose against Hux’s hand, snuffling cautiously before sitting on his haunches and cocking his head at a comical angle. He was clearly confused as to where his prey had gone- even though he could clearly see the man he’d gone after moments before.

“Well that definitely answers that. They see you, but can’t sense you, even when they knew there was prey there a moment ago,” Mara said, clearly pleased. “Now we know where to start.”

“Start what?” Hux asked curiously.

“Teaching him to partition, and for you to hold onto it through a link.” Mara pursed her lips. “I used to do such things with the Emperor. Partitioning off secrets and sending them to him across the galaxy. I think we can do that with you two, and therefore keep a part of yourself safely sequestered away along with any dirty secrets you want to keep.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Hux said, gripping Ren’s hand without thinking about it.

Mara motioned to the door the vornskr had come barrelling out of.

“We’ll have more room in the hangar. Karrde will get us food- this is going to take a while.”

Hux and Ren silently followed her into the hangar, the vornskr padding after them with soft whines.

“And while we’re at it, I’ll teach you everything about ysalamiri, and how you might use them.”

Hux hoped that she might also tell him if they’d recently sold any, or if there were other places to get them, but for now, his main focus was learning how to use his new knowledge to protect himself, his future aspirations, and his own vornskr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks, yes, Mara and Karrde are married. I've low key shipped it a while, and while I love Mara/Luke, I couldn't work it into this canon, and in any case, it would have made Hux and Kylo related by marriage, and I don't do That.


	18. The End of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things spiral, advance, and fall quickly when the race to find Skywalker becomes all the more urgent as more players enter the game, loyalties are tested, and pieces of theories fall into place, resulting in disaster and revelations.

They’d found it.

Months of searching for the last piece of the map- agents getting into skirmishes with Resistance pilots, dead ends, more skirmishes with the same damned pilot, and even more trail tracking- and they finally found it.

“It’s on Jakku,” Ren said triumphantly as he approached Hux on the bridge of the Finalizer.

Hux froze.

Jakku. The dry dustball of a planet time, and the rest of the galaxy forgot. A graveyard testament to the Empire’s failings. Where he’d been dragged by his father and mocked for being confused and scared, barely six years old. Where he’d seen feral children turned into perfect little killing machines that would later become his army.

Where he’d met the woman who would become his mother.

Where the Empire had died in a blaze of utter failure, crashing from the sky in the form of the broken and flaming speartip of the doomed Ravager.

Where he’d boarded the Imperialis as the ground shook beneath him, and began his journey to unknown space, with a stranger, feral children, and his hateful reviled father.

They’d come full circle.

“General Hux,” Ren said sharply, butting into his thoughts.

_Are you okay?_

“Jakku. That pathetic backwater scavenger’s purgatory? Never thought I’d hear that name again,” he said disdainfully. “Helm, set our course, then.”

_That’s where the First Order was essentially born, Kylo._

Over their link, through the shared real estate of their minds, Hux felt Ren flinch in surprise. He hadn’t known. Not many did, save for the few who were old enough to have been plucked from the desolate desert world at the start.

_You didn’t tell me._

_I didn’t think it was important_ , Hux replied with a mental shrug while watching the helmsman set the navicomputer’s course and preparing to jump to hyperspace.

 _It **is** important,_ Ren pressed.

 _It’s where the Empire died. It’s the ashes from whence the Order rose_ , Hux returned. _A fire gives no regard to the ashes it leaves in its wake, only the path it intends to raze._

Ren snorted softly over their link as they made the length of the bridge. His partitioning had gone well, and his own mind now had a locked room to contain his secrets. He didn’t have multiple rooms like Hux, but he was slowly working on it. Between their link, and their separate locked rooms, they’d been able to carry on aspects of their…arrangement.

The frustrations of hunting down the map, and the failures of his Knights, even his own excursions had had Ren spiralling into fits of frustration, especially after Snoke punished him for said failures. Hux soothed Ren over their link, helping ground him, center him, and calm him. They still argued- both audibly and over their link. It kept Snoke placated, thinking that his two pawns were at odds with each other. It also helped them vent their own frustrations with the unspoken tension between them- Hux’s distrust of the Force, and Ren’s anger at the distrust.

Meanwhile, they still found time to fuck like gizka wherein Hux found new ways to dominate Ren and new limits to push his vornskr to. Ren had finally accepted wearing a collar- but only in private, otherwise the accessory was kept safely hidden in Hux’s quarters.

“Phasma,” Hux greeted his captain as she approached.

“Orders, then?” she asked, no bullshit, no banter.

“Indeed. Prepare a squadron to be sent down to the surface,” Hux said, turning to Ren, lifting a brow to indicate the other man should give further instruction.

“They are to raze the village and find the man known as Lor San Tekka,” Ren supplied. “His home and the entire village is to be searched. Leave Tekka alive so I may question him.”

“Kill any who resist,” Hux finished coldly. “We’ve had enough delay with this map and I will have no would-be heroes turning this into another botched retrieval.”

Despite himself, Ren flinched as Hux sneered the words “this map.” Hux still thought hunting down Skywalker was a waste of time, and still had suspicions against Snoke and the Force in general. Ren had learned to accept his wariness, given that Snoke had literally threatened to kill Hux, but he still felt alienated by that aspect of his lover’s scorn- and it gave fuel to their verbal arguments.

Lover. The thought flipped and writhed in the partitioned part of Ren’s mind- not unpleasantly, more like the sense of vertigo in one’s stomach during a freefall back into atmosphere during reentry. There was no getting around it or denying it- Hux was his lover… and owner, if he really admitted to it.

But he owned a piece of Hux, too. He had a few of Hux’s very own secrets tucked away in his own partition- a memory of himself as a scared, crying child on Arkanis being spirited away from his mother. A memory of peering around a door and seeing adults at a table, hearing his name, the casual but curt correction to his dead name by a sneering father. The laughter and mockery that followed, along with the sharp pain in his ribs and the hot tears that burned in his eyes and nose. Again on Jakku, in the Imperialis, crying ugly sobs with a snotty nose pressed into Sloane’s chest as his world exploded and changed around him.

Memories- that were often nightmares- of being humiliated and made to lap spilt drinks off the floor like a dog while cruel, indolent men soft around the middle from privilege and rank laughed at him- and then punishment afterwards, for being an embarrassment, despite doing what he’d been told.

Kylo Ren had memories of Armitage Hux at his most vulnerable, his weakest, his lowest- and he treasured them.

“Understood,” Phasma said, inclining her helmeted head before making a smart about-face and marching off.

“I’m going down with them. Do try to keep the ship close enough so we can jump to the coordinates as soon as I get them,” Ren said curtly before turning on his heel and lumbering off like a stormcloud, leaving Hux to snarl at his retreating back.

_Bad pet._

_Punish me later, then._

_Oh, believe me_ , Hux promised softly. _I will._

* * *

Hux waited outside the interrogation room, hands folded behind his back. He resisted the urge to rock on his heels and hum to himself with satisfaction. Not only had they captured a Resistance pilot during their siege on the planet’s surface, but it was _that kriffing pilot_. The one who had driven Terex near mad with frustration. The one who’d gotten in the way before and been such a burr under the First Order’s tunic.

It didn’t take long before he heard the pilot screaming and it gave Hux a thrill of pleasure. Finally, the man was getting what he deserved for meddling in First Order affairs. He would have loved to have been in the room observing, but Ren had wanted to do it on his own.

That was fine and well- with their link, Hux might as well have been in the room with them, and it was better that he wasn’t. The pilot had a mouth on him, and had made quite the interesting- and insulting- views of Hux on his way in.

“ _You’re_ Hux? I’d have pegged you for a Chandrilan socialite, if that wasn’t an insult to Mon Mothma,” he quipped, earning Phasma’s scorn. She’d said nothing, simply cuffed him with her metal gauntlet, opening his lower lip.

“Don’t rough him up too much, Captain,” Hux had said, a sneer curling his mouth. “Leave some for interrogation.”

“You gonna hug me to death, General Hugs?” the pilot jeered, looking Hux up and down pointedly. “You’re what… 150 pounds with your oversized coat, soaking wet? What would you do, mess up my hair?”

Hux had simply smiled at the poor man.

“Oh, no. You get to deal with someone else.”

“Another attack dog?”

Hux’s smile had widened to show his perfect gleaming teeth, his eyes glacially cold.

“As a matter of fact,” he had all but purred, “you get my prized vornskr.”

The pilot’s face had gone quizzical, and Hux continued to smile as he was pulled into the interrogation room.

Then Ren had entered the room, and shortly, the screams began.

It didn’t take Ren long to get what he needed.

“It’s with a droid, a BB unit, on the planet’s surface,” he said without preamble as he strode out of the room.

“Well then, if it’s with a droid, we’ll soon have it. Droids naturally seek out their own kind, and there are only so many outposts for it to seek refuge in,” Hux replied, a half smile on his face. Soon they’d be done with this.

“I leave that to you,” Ren said simply, and headed down the hall.

 _I have to deal with one of my Knights,_ he murmured. _Something about a skirmish between her and another. I trust your capabilities._

 _We’ll find it,_ Hux reassured him, frowning slightly at Ren’s back. He hoped this skirmish hadn’t destroyed anything on the ship. The Knights of Ren were still a slovenly bunch, and barely controlled by their Master.

“Phasma,” he said into his comm, striding back towards the bridge. “Send your unit to the surface with a squadron of TIE fighters. We have a droid to pick up.”

“Shall I go down with them, Sir?” came her reply.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he answered. “It’s just picking up a droid, after all. No doubt one of the scavengers down there will be more than happy to take a bounty for it. Contact the local merchants and some of the scum that have a monopoly on the market, tell them we’ll offer a handsome reward if they hand over the droid.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Satisfied with himself for the idea, Hux continued his way back to the bridge. They’d be done with this nonsense in no time. For now…

He was thinking of ideas on what to do to the pilot that could be broadcast back to the Resistance and the Republic to demoralise their pathetic little insurgency.

* * *

Maetra watched Phasma polish her armour, holding one of the chrome gauntlets. She lifted a perfectly groomed eyebrow as Phasma found blood on one of the armoured gloves, and buffed it out. She was still in her flight suit, having just returned from training.

“Darling, did you bust that poor pilot up?” she asked, watching the copper flakes fall to the cloth spread on the floor. Phasma grinned at her.

“Just his lip. He was being a mouthy little shit,” she said. Maetra batted her eyes.

“I do love how aggressive you can be.”

Phasma opened her mouth to reply, when Maetra’s comm went off, a shrill alarm sounding from it. The pilot’s eyes went wide, and she immediately scooped it up, bolting for the door. There was only one meaning for the specific alarm that had sounded just then, and given that it wasn’t a squadron-wide warning, it meant the worst. Phasma scrambled to get into her armour, but Maetra was already gone, moving quickly, leaving her girlfriend behind. She knew Phasma wouldn’t take it personally.

“Dash, what is it? Why is the alarm going off?” she called into the comm as she raced down the corridor towards the nearest lift. “What’s going on with our baby?”

Her gunner’s voice came back over the comm as the doors slid shut behind her.

“Unauthorised engine start! She’s tethered, but someone’s trying to take off with her!” he cried, his voice a mix of panicked and shocked. Panicked because nothing short of treason would have their ship taking off without them in it. Shocked because no one aside from a traitor would even dare touch a Special Forces TIE without authorisation from command and the crew of said TIE.

“Who?” Maetra demanded, wishing the lift would go faster. She jammed a gloved finger at the button for the hangar deck as if it would make it go faster.

Who would be foolhardy enough to try to steal a TIE, let alone _**her**_ TIE? She was the squadron leader, and the wrath that would be invoked from her for touching her baby was only secondary to the legendary temper of Kylo Ren. This traitor was desperate or-

Her heart stuttered, and she froze as the thought hit her.

_The Resistance pilot._

The lift finally reached the hangar, and she darted out just in time to see her TIE shooting out of the Finalizer’s docking bay, a trail of destruction in its wake. Maetra let out a wail of dismay, shock and pure rage.

“My _**BABY**_!” She screamed, her voice breaking at the end as rage rose the pitch of her voice, her fists clenched and shaking, her face flushed and eyes flashing.

She dashed over to the nearest TIE and shoved the shell shocked pilot aside as she saw Dash racing across the deck to her side. He climbed into the gunner’s seat and began start up. Maetra swiped her code cylinder over the locks of the tether, releasing the TIE before climbing into the cockpit.

“Don’t worry about making this run, Lieutenant,” she told the confused pilot as the cockpit’s door was closing. “This is personal.”

The Lieutenant saluted once she and her gunner noticed their Commander’s empty TIE spot and the sparking tether lock.

“Give him hell, Commander!”

Maetra shot a half assed salute before jamming on her helmet and attaching the hoses.

“Alpha squadron, to your ships, NOW,” she barked over the comm once her helmet was secured.

“Hux isn’t going to like this,” Dash said quietly, priming the weapons systems.

“I don’t care,” Maetra shot back as she strapped in and did the quickest pre-flight check of her life. “He can court martial me later, that Rebel _scum_ isn’t getting away with our ship!”

She wasn’t going to wait for orders from the bridge, and as squadron leader, she could take that responsibility- and would willingly take the fallout from Hux later. She had to make sure the traitor didn’t escape with her baby. It wasn’t just her personal ship- if the Resistance got a hold of a Special Forces TIE, they’d have a huge advantage, especially if they could apply the tech to those zippy X-Wings that were already a pain in the ass.

The TIE hummed to life and her fingers flew over the controls, flicking over switches and buttons before taking the yoke in her hands. A glance at the tell-tales told her what Dashelle didn’t need to- he was ready, his sharpshooter’s eyes already prepared for combat.

“Alpha Squadron, on me,” Maetra commanded, and urged the TIE out into space under the Finalizer’s belly.

She was shocked to see the brigand hadn’t tried to make a run for hyperspace, but was attacking the battlecruiser’s underside armaments! Seeing her own ship attacking the Finalizer hurt her to the core, and she winced as a turbolaser exploded. They’d go for the ventral cannons next if the bridge didn’t get them locked first. Her squadron needed to get this done and over with. Fast.

“Ready, Dash?” she asked.

“I don’t wanna shoot down our baby, but I’d rather see her destroyed than delivered to the hands of the Resistance. Ready, and borderline willing, Mae,” Dash replied grimly.

The rest of Alpha Squadron was streaming out of the hangar bay in a tight parade line. They had their instruments locked on the rogue TIE, their weapons hot. Maetra resigned herself to seeing her TIE being blown to bits, and decided the best course of action to take it down.

“Alpha Squadron, we cannot let my ship escape into hyperspace,” she said coolly. “Form up, Bantha Formation, before he reads how many are on him. He’s a fool and going after the underside armaments, and likely he’s going for the next ventral canon. Follow my lead and get ready for a Force Multiple Orbit.”

Her squadron echoed acknowledgements, falling into formation, ordered by their usual positions during drills.

“Weapons are hot,” Dash said, unnecessarily, since Maetra already saw her console lighting up the tell-tale that the guns were primed.

She gunned it, and the TIE screamed as it barrelled through space towards its target. Instantly, the fleeing TIE spun into evasive manoeuvres, trying to break away between the Finalizer’s underbelly turrets and the spitting green fire of Dash’s weapons.

“What’s his game plan, Mae?” Dash asked in the cockpit, not keying up over the comm. He was used to Maetra’s uncanny ability to read opponents and sensing what they’d attempt- attempt, because they never succeeded- just like she was used to him never missing his target. He knew, without looking, that Maetra was staring at nothing under her helmet, and that she’d gone perfectly still.

“He’s going to attempt a Tallon Roll,” she announced over the comm after what seemed like an eternity of silence. “Prepare to break into the Multiple Orbit to intercept.”

Maetra pulled on the yoke to indulge the Resistance pilot, shooting forward to allow the TIE to follow the path their target hoped for. As expected, the target swooped upwards and over, preparing to loop ahead and above her for a clear shot.

The enemy visibly jerked, however, as Alpha Squadron flurried about him, breaking out of single-file procession and spreading into a cloud around him, encircling the TIE like a buzz of electrons.

“Good job, now hold him,” Maetra said, banking hard to port and downward, just as green laser fire shot over the cockpit. She spun the TIE fast, cutting power to one engine, then quickly restoring power within second as the target came into view. Dash whooped with delirious delight as their TIE deftly dodged another volley of laser fire from the traitor in the gunner’s seat.

“You never warn me when you’re going to pull a Gandder, Mae,” he exulted. She grinned.

“Because you always get so giddy when I don’t,” she shot back, then immediately went serious again. “Look alive, target is in range and is flat footed.”

Dash didn’t need to be told- once one of the corralling Alpha Squadron TIEs had cleared his scope, he fired. The shot hit the left wing and sent the ship spiralling towards the atmosphere of Jakku- which they already seemed to be headed towards.

“Is it just me, or were they headed back to Jakku?” Dash asked in bewilderment.

“They must be going back for the droid,” Maetra said, understanding dawning on her.

“Alpha Squadron, report back to the hangar _immediately_ ,” came Hux’s voice over the comm, cold and hard, and she winced. There was the fall-out she was going to have to deal with for charging into battle without clearance.

It was worth it.

“You heard the General, fall back,” she told her squadron, then privately, she told them, “Good job out there. I’ll take the fall for going out without permission. You guys just go to the ready-rooms, take a breather, be on stand-by in case we’re needed for retrieval of my ship.”

 _The **wreckage** of my ship_, she thought sadly to herself, glancing back at the smoking trail of debris her precious starfighter left in Jakku’s atmosphere.

Dash was silent as they docked back in the hangar, and his silence went from defiant support to cold fear as they saw Hux and Kylo Ren standing on the tarmac as they disembarked from their TIE. Just behind them, Phasma stood stoically, and Maetra was glad to see her. Ren was impassive and silent, as ever, standing just behind and to the side of the General- who was standing stiffly with his hands folded behind his back. Maetra could see the firm set of his jaw, and lifted she her chin in subtle defiance.

_I did what I had to._

“Commander Aervon,” Hux said simply as she approached, saluting once she’d removed her helmet and standing at stiff attention. Dash lingered at the TIE, handing things over to the Lieutenant it belonged to- who looked relieved her ship was unharmed.

“I take full responsibility for acting without permission, General,” Maetra said calmly. “But I do not regret what I did, as the traitor and the prisoner did not escape to hyperspace with First Order technology, and are now on the planet, disabled.”

To her utter _shock_ , Hux actually _smiled_ \- albeit ever so slightly-then turned to Ren, who was standing there, silently, his masked face turned to Maetra. Though her face was still pointed at Hux, it was obvious she wasn’t focused on the General. Another silent debriefing was happening between them.

“The TIE was disabled, crippled,” Ren said, as if reciting the facts from Maetra’s mind- and Maetra seemed to radiate discomfort as he did so. “They were headed back for the droid.”

His terrible mask turned to Hux.

“The traitor, FN-2187, would have wanted to escape to hyperspace to avoid punishment and reconditioning. The Commander was not out of bounds to keep that from happening,” Phasma said acidly before either man could speak. “Never mind it was her own ship that she and Lieutenant Commander Dashelle shot down.”

Hux didn’t like being told off by Phasma in public, but the Captain had a bloody damn point, and everyone there knew it.

“A valid point,” Hux said, folding his arms behind his back again. “Though now our Special Forces squadron is without a lead ship.”

There was a small glint in his eyes- amusement, perhaps?- as he looked between Phasma and Maetra.

“I never use my bonus,” Phasma said quietly, so only Hux could hear. “Use it to commission her a new ship. Alpha Squadron is too important.”

“A present for your lover?” Ren said, the teasing in his voice apparent. “Most people get their girlfriends jewellery.”

“I am not most people,” Phasma shot back, also sounding amused. “And neither is she.”

“Enough,” Hux said, bringing them back to business. “Very well. We shall have a new ship built as soon as possible. Commander Aervon, good work, and have your squadron take it easy- I will send Gamma Squadron to run interference, should the traitor and prisoner try to escape once we find them.”

Maetra almost looked insulted that Gamma Squadron was being sent instead of Alpha, but she said nothing, knowing it was useless as long as she was missing her ship.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, saluting him once more and moving to the ready-room to join her squadron for some respite and congratulations on a job well done.

Hux and Ren watched her go- and watched Phasma watch her go. Maetra was short, but cut a toned, deadly figure in her black flight suit, her movements as confident and self-assured as any seasoned pilot without the self-effacing arrogance typical of X-Wing pilots.

True TIE pilots knew they were vulnerable, expendable, even, and were not immortal. Their swagger was born of survival, not ego.

“Absolutely smitten,” Hux muttered with the smallest of smirks before turning on his heel and heading back for the bridge. Ren chuckled softly and followed like a black thundercloud in Hux’s wake.

“Says the man in love with Lord Tantrum,” Phasma muttered in amusement before she marched off after them.

“I heard that,” Ren snarled, but there was no venom in it.

Phasma simply grinned under her helmet, and Hux allowed himself to smile, enjoying the small moment of camaraderie between the three of them.

* * *

They’d had a mental screaming match and Hux was not talking to Ren. He’d closed off his mind, slammed all the doors and ignored anything Ren said.

A clone army, he fumed to himself. Of all the insults Ren had thrown at him. So of course, he’d shot right back that Ren was too obsessed over Skywalker, that he was letting his personal aims get in the way of the Order’s goals. All the while, mentally arguing that he was letting the Force and his dependence on it cloud his vision for the future.

All in all, they weren’t happy with each other. Hux wasn’t even demanding Ren come to his room for punishment. He was the last person Hux wanted to see.

“Um. General, Sir?”

There was no mistaking Mitaka’s shaken, scared voice. Hux set his datapad down, lifting a brow.

“What is it?”

“Kylo Ren, sir, he….”

A long, suffering sigh escaped Hux.

“What did he destroy this time, Dopheld?”

“One of the consoles in the logistics bay,” Mitaka said, relaxing a bit as Hux used his first name, showing an informal bit of condolence to the man for dealing with Ren’s wrath. Hux noticed his bent and rumpled collar, and leaned forward, frowning.

“Did he choke you?” he asked seriously. Mitaka shook his head.

“N-no, sir. He grabbed my collar, not my throat. He wasn’t happy to hear that a girl from the surface helped FN-2187 escape in a freighter.”

Hux sighed.

“Are you alright?”

“I am, sir, just… wanted to give you the estimates on the damage costs.”

Hux held out his hand in a fatigued sort of way as he waited for the expected datacard, another sigh escaping his lips as he took it from his Lieutenant.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said wearily.

He paused, a message trailing across his datapad.

“That will be all. Dismissed,” he said, not even paying attention to Mitaka as he left his office.

He had a message, marked urgent, from his mother.

_«Attacked en route to Chiss Space. Barely escaped. Lost starboard engine, but managed to make jump. Ships too dark and fast to see. Three of unknown make, very sleek, almost sharp. Emissions similar to TIE fighter, but seemed to be dampened. Made rendezvous with Eclipse, messaging from Admiral Sloane’s suite. Will follow up when safely on Copero. -Mathir.»_

A nerve began twitching in Hux’s cheek as he felt the silence radiate from Ren. A silence weighed with doubt, worry, and… guilt.

Hux slammed the last and final door of his mind, cutting off their connection. If Ren wanted to explain himself, he’d have to come to Hux directly. Until then, Hux wanted nothing to do with the man, or his Knights, and especially Snoke.

He picked up the security report from his engineers, looking over their lists of concerns.

Grating highly suggested on the drainage pipes. Better encryption on the emergency remote access panels. Repeated concerns about the shielding failsafe systems. Requests that droids be replaced with maintenance personnel who would be more sensitive to abnormalities in the local environment- or requests for reprogramming of said droids to be more sensitive to said abnormalities.

A list of very valid concerns, to be sure. Concerns that had already been brought up- and dismissed by Snoke as minor tedium that would not matter in the long run once Starkiller Base was fully operational- and mobile.

Hux’s mind flashed to the small, overlooked, but completely fatal flaw that had allowed the destruction of the Death Star, and his mind summoned images of Tarkin, dying in the inferno.

He sat there, finger poised over the datapad. He read the list again. He read his mother’s message again. His eyes narrowed, and his mind went back to Lady Carise. To the gala. To the man whose hyoid bone now rested beside the matching bone of his brother in a macabre collection of trophies. To the sabotage of his ship, and the now-dead Admiral Brooks. To the fact that Captain Cardinal had discovered the true cause of Brendol’s death- as had the Resistance- and then had escaped with a known Resistance spy. To the random defection of an otherwise perfect Trooper who had been up for promotion, were it not for his unconquerable compassion of the members of his squadron.

Too many internal factors. Too many leaks, mistakes, threats, attempts on his life, those dear to him, and too many “random” happenstances to ignore when facing the real security issues in front of him that Snoke dismissed as “minor tedium” from the safety of his ostentatious throne in the heart of the _Supremacy._

He went over the list one more time. He read his mother’s message one last time. His finger still hovered over the datapad. He took a deep breath.

He hit delete.

He pinged Phasma on a private, encrypted channel on his comm.

“We need to talk. Contingency plans have changed,” he said when she picked up.

“Orders?” Her voice was calm and cold as ever, but there was an underlying tension the belied her concern.

“My quarters, one hour.”

“Should I bring the… what is it, again?”

“The ysalamir,” Hux confirmed. “And yes, bring it with you. Even Ren is not privy to this.”

* * *

Ren paced. He was eager to be out, to be doing something other than waiting.

But here he was, in the assembly chamber with Hux, waiting.

He still had no idea what had made Hux so angry, why he had closed off their connection, but it made him feel small and insecure. Hux refused to acknowledge the prying, the prodding, the pleading- he’d pleaded, for stars’ sake. The General remained stoically, and infuriatingly silent, however. He’d even gone completely out of existence for a few hours, and Ren knew he’d been hiding in the small void that his damned ysalamir provided.

Ren told himself it was to have complete and utter privacy, to cool off without any interference, but _kriff_ , he hated that furry little lizard and its damned Force bubble. Mara had brought the critter to Hux, as a security measure, and so he could use it- along with Ren- to understand and practise his own odd abilities. Ren resented Mara for giving him the thing, but, he told himself, at least Hux kept it deep in the base in a small storage space converted into a habitat made to resemble its natural environment on Myrkyr, far away from his room so it wouldn’t be too overt of a disturbance for Ren.

Not that it mattered, even now, as Hux’s own peculiar abilities made him hard to pin as it was- with his mind so thoroughly locked down, he might as well have been in another galaxy instead of five feet away. It didn’t help Hux was getting _better_ at hiding and locking his mind down. The lock on his mind didn’t hide the boiling, simmering resentment that radiated from him, however, and it scalded Ren like pressurised steam.

_Please talk to me. What happened?_

Nothing. He might as well have been talking to a wall.

He was about to try again, to take Hux’s hand, when the holoprojector flickered, and Ren stood straight, and Hux went as cold and unfeeling as a slab of marble, the anger and resentment fading into nothing as Hux shut down entirely.

Snoke’s image appeared, and his face was a mask of hatred, of anger and disappointment.

“Words cannot express my disappointment,” he growled without preamble. “The droid will soon be delivered into the hands of the Resistance, leading them to the last Jedi. If Skywalker returns, the new Jedi will rise.”

Hux looked directly into the mutilated face of Snoke.

“Supreme Leader, I take full responsibility-”

“GENERAL!” Snoke roared, cutting Hux off as he got to his feet- an act that, even in hologram, clearly caused the Force user pain.

Hux, not appreciating being cut off in the middle of trying to be subservient, bit back his disdain, but something in his eyes and mouth twitched with the effort of doing so.

“Our strategy must now change,” Snoke said, looking off into the distance, clearly thinking as to what measures should be taken. Again, before Ren could give his input, Hux was a step ahead.

“The weapon. It is ready. I believe the time has come to use it. We shall destroy the government that supports the Resistance, the Republic. Without their friends to support them, the Resistance will be vulnerable, and we will stop them before the reach Skywalker,” he said.

Ren glanced at him. The last he spoke to Hux privately, he’d said he had his doubts about certain aspects of the weapon, and something that almost felt like guilt or even… distaste had radiated from under the locked door in his partitioned mind. Had something changed? Did it have to do with why he was being so shut off now? His gut churned with discomfort.

“Go,” Snoke said, sitting back down. “Oversee preparations.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Hux said, purposely looking at Ren with a smirk that to Snoke, would have looked like a victorious gloat.

However, as their eyes locked, despite the mask Ren wore, the connection flared, briefly.

 _You’ll understand soon enough_.

Then the connection closed, Hux turned on his heel and practically strutted from the room, his great-coat billowing behind him. Snoke waited until Hux had all but left.

“There has been an awakening. Have you felt it?”

“Yes,” was all Ren could say, feeling the weight of being alone with Snoke settle on him, and the strain of keeping his inner thoughts inside his partition.

“There’s something more,” Snoke said, lifting a finger. “The droid we seek… is aboard the _Millennium Falcon_.”

Ren froze.

“He means nothing to me,” he managed after a moment.

“This is a test that even you have yet to master, my apprentice,” Snoke said, and Ren could feel the doubt curling every word. He didn’t let it get deeper than the surface, knowing it was another test, another prodding.

“By the grace of your training, I will not be seduced,” he said.

“We shall see,” Snoke said, his hologram fading, leaving Ren feeling the sting of his dismissal and disbelief.

* * *

Everything was perfect.

The planet was cold, but the skies were clear, and everyone on the grounds had their uniforms pressed, armour polished, and were in immaculate ranks. Hux stood on the platform, the First Order’s banner behind him, and his senior officers flanking him. He had amplifiers hidden in his collar, which would project his voice to the forces standing before him.

He had his doubts about the weapon. About how long it could be kept safe, hidden. He knew that the moment it fired, the Resistance would track the source to their location. He knew their particular brand of desperation and nerve would have them swarming to bat against it like flies against an overripe fruit.

There were glaring oversights in security. In design- oversights originally ignored when he’d brought them up as cutting corners. In stability compared to power- another oversight ignored by Snoke, who’d wanted it done, and wanted it done as soon as possible.

Hux had taken pride in it, but then he thought about the consequences- possible and likely- that the weapon would have. Not on the Republic and the Resistance, he couldn’t care less, as long as they were destroyed. No, he was worried about what the Ascendancy would think, what they would make of it.

Would they see it as a waste of resources and a folly move, declaring the Order unfit as allies and leaving them to their own devices? Would they see it as a threat and decide they were now enemies of the Chiss? It was likely a mix of both- a threat, a waste of resources, but they would do nothing unless- until- the Order moved against them.

It was a possibility, if Snoke had his way, and a very real threat, given that the base was still in the Unknown Regions and close to Chiss territories. It would be all too easy for Snoke to turn the weapon on their allies and former benefactors. Either way, it would affect his family. The women who loved and had cared for and raised him.

All the more reason he had contingencies set, ready to push into motion, if need be. He believed in the Order’s autonomy and supremacy, but he had no plans on attacking the Ascendancy. He knew better than to make the Order an active threat to the Chiss. They seemed to be pacifists, but he knew that they could easily be a force that could overwhelm the Order. He had no intention of letting Starkiller Base turn on them. Not if he could help it.

But for now, the job he intended it for was at hand, and he revelled in the moment. His gut still had mixed feelings, but this… this was a true moment showcasing his abilities, his power, his command. It was a moment where he would fully overshadow his father, and prove that fat old slob- and all those officers who had laughed at him when he was only a boy- that he was not worthless, weak.

He _was_ the Order.

“Today is the end. The end of a government incapacitated by corruption, the end of an illegitimate regime that acquiesces to disorder. At this very moment in a system far from here, the New Republic lives and wheezes, staggering onward, depraved and ineffectual, and unable in any way to support the citizenry it claims to serve. Meanwhile, a host of systems are left to wither and die, without aid, without care, without hope. Drowning in its own decadence, the New Republic ignores them, unaware that these are its final moments.”

He sharply swept his arm downward and out, indicating the Starkiller Base.

“This fierce machine which you have built, to which you have dedicated your lives and labour, and upon which we now stand will bring a final end to the worthless Senate and its dithering members, to their cherished fleet. When this day is done, all remaining systems in their hundreds, will bow to the dictates of the First Order and all will remember this as the last day of the Republic!”

His voice rose, his breath came faster, and the last few statements of his speech came out in a roar, his teeth bared, a vein pulsing in his forehead, the muscles of his neck taut with fury. This was it. The moment so much work had led up to. Despite his misgivings about the future use of this weapon, his moment had come. The fate of entire worlds literally hung on his word, and the sheer weight of this realisation made his blood sing and his stomach flip under his ribs.

_Entire worlds. Ended or spared by my command._

He turned sharply, and the soldiers followed, a single sound of armoured limbs and leather boots meeting smartly as the army snapped to as one.

“FIRE!” He roared.

The techs had been standing by, and there was barely a hesitation as the weapon fired, the ground shaking beneath their feet as the nearly blinding red light erupted from the far side of planet. The red beam shot out, far past the atmosphere, and into space along the vectors planned.

Hux stared into the red light, knowing just how many people would die. How people would see the Order after this. What power he would be perceived to have after this.

What he didn’t know was what his tentative allies would have to say.

It was the last thought on his mind, however. Despite his own misgivings, despite agreeing with Sloane, the overwhelming sense of power and accomplishment was all that he could think about.

His eyes were wet, thinking about the times he’d been beaten by his father, insulted, left behind, laughed at by others who saw him as a waste of space and resources.

Let them laugh now. Even Tarkin had not accomplished as much as this. Tarkin had been a destroyer of a few worlds.

Armitage Hux was the destroyer of entire systems.

* * *

Ren stood on the bridge of the Finalizer, watching the red beams of energy arc across space, headed to their targets where they would obliterate the entire Hosnian Prime system. His mask was impassive, unreadable as he watched.

His thoughts were torn between the man standing on the planet’s surface, revelling in power and death; and the Finalizer’s destination.

Takodana.

They’d found the droid.

“Make the jump,” he ordered once the last vestige of energy had made the impossible leap across lightyears to its intended target. He pulled his mind away from the conflicted triumph of the General who’d pulled the trigger. He’d make an attempt at celebrating Hux’s success later. He would worry about his future when he’d killed his past.

He had a droid to capture, so that he could find the end of his journey by destroying the one who’d started it.

* * *

Maetra wheeled her new ship around, chasing the black and orange X-Wing like a Kath hound on the scent. No matter what the pilot did- and it was incredible, to be sure- he couldn’t quite shake her off his tail.

“I swear it’s like we’ve flown against this pilot before,” Dash commented, frowning at his scopes- every time he was about to lock on, the pilot shook free.

“It’s him,” Maetra said, her voice nearly dreamy, and Dash looked over his shoulder to see her head canted to the side slightly, her grip loose on the yoke. She was doing … “her thing,” again, as he called it.

Never mind that he had “his thing,” too.

“What?”

“It’s that pilot. They found him and put him in his proper ship.”

She snapped out of her trance and pulled back hard on the yoke just in time to avoid a spray of weapons fire from the X-Wing, who had fallen back, belly up, then spiralled in mid-air to arc behind them. There was no doubt in her mind of it.

“Let’s dance, flyboy. You owe me a ship,” she snarled.

Dash said nothing, taking her word for it. He often had his own hints and moments of deep intuition, but nothing like that of his sister. They both suspected it was the Force with both of them, but neither had been trained, and Dash avoided Ren as often as they could for the most part.

They did better in a cockpit of a TIE fighter than fumbling with lightsabers, anyway, and they both knew it. True, Kylo Ren was rumoured to be an ace pilot himself, but Dash had yet to see him in flight. Until then, no one measured up to his sister- not even the pilot doing his damnedest to shake her off his tail.

He saw a familiar face on the ground as they swooped low to intercept another X-Wing, and he growled aloud before shooting at him instead of the other ship.

“Dash, you missed,” Maetra said, sounding stunned.

“The traitor is down there!” Dash roared, his cry deafening in his helmet.

“While I admire your dedication, and so would our superiors, you need to focus. Let the ground troops deal with him, preferably to capture him alive, Dash! Focus on the target!”

Dash ground his teeth and refocused, turning his weapons on the nearest X-Wing and blowing it up without mercy.

“Excellent,” Maetra commended him. “Now. After the black and orange one. He’s not getting away again.”

“Alpha Squadron, we have what we came for,” came Ren’s voice over their comm, and as they wheeled overhead, their TIE’s engine screaming defiantly at the X-Wing they pursued, Maetra could see Ren striding back onto his shuttle, carrying the prone form of a young woman. She pursed her lips. A woman? Weren’t they here for a droid?

“And the X-Wings?” she asked, almost hopefully.

“Pull off, the division is returning to the Finalizer,” Ren snapped.

Maetra sighed and scowled at her prey.

“Soon,” she promised aloud, and pulled off to follow the large black shuttle with the rest of her squadron, like a line of baby raptors following their oversized parent.

Once they broke through the gravity well, they jumped to hyperspace to a set of coordinates where the Finalizer awaited their return.

“What was the girl for?” Dash asked as their TIE barrelled through the blurred lines and lights of hyperspace, relaxing in his seat.

“No idea, but I hope he got something a bit better than some random girl to bring home to Snoke.”

Dash winced.

“I hope you don’t mean for Snoke,” he said, and Maetra gagged.

“No, I meant for him. Maybe he and Hux want to spice things up,” she joked, fully knowing both men preferred the company of each other and little else- it was common, but under the table knowledge that Hux preferred men in his bed, not women. As for Ren, it was just assumed that he only bent to Hux, and otherwise likely wouldn’t have sex at all.

“Ew, Mae. Ew.”

“I know. Poor taste on my part. I’m still angry we weren’t able to go after that X-Wing.”

“So you really think that was him?” Dash asked. He hated the silence of hyperspace.

“I don’t. I _know_ it was him,” she replied, her voice hard and cold. “And we _will_ shoot his punk ass out of the sky. I swear it.”

* * *

Ren stared at the girl, sweat and shock visible on his face. She was no one, just a scavenger he’d scooped up out of desperation, and yet, here they stood, her eyes burning into his, their minds scalded from brushing forcibly against the other. She’d _forced his reach back into his own head._

“You’re afraid you’ll never be as strong as Vader,” she said softly, almost in awe. “You’re afraid you can’t protect Armitage- the General?”

_She saw. She saw everything. How?_

She blinked at him.

_You’re scared of the General dying, and that you can’t stop it from happening._

_You…. you know nothing. **You’re** nothing. No one. _

Not knowing what else to do, he turned on his heel and _fled._

* * *

“And the droid?”

Hux burst into the room. Every step he took, every motion he made, every plane of his face, was saturated with anger.

“Ren believed it was no longer valuable to us. That the girl was all we needed. As a result, the droid has most likely been returned to the hands of the enemy. They may have the map already.”

Hux was furious, and Ren looked away from him, keeping his unmasked face turned away. He could feel how angry Hux was, and though he bit down on the feeling, the anger made him feel awful, knowing it was because of him- especially since Snoke was angry as well.

_You took your mask off for her? What were you thinking?_

Ren didn’t answer. The anger in Hux’s voice was paired with a jealous sort of hurt. It occurred to Ren that Hux considered Ren’s vulnerability, his exposure without the mask to be something only he was entitled to, save for Snoke- but even then the exposure was different.

He had shared something with the enemy, and a stranger at that, that had taken Hux months to achieve willingly from him.

Ren couldn’t answer. Couldn’t look at Hux. Snoke’s fury and Hux’s hurt were making it hard to keep up his partition.

“Then the Resistance must be destroyed before they get to Skywalker,” Snoke said, leaning forward in his chair, a snarl on his deformed face.

“We have their location. We tracked their reconnaissance ship to Ileenium system,” Hux said matter-of-factly.

“Good. Then we will crush them once and for all. Prepare the weapon.” Snoke looked pleased- but there was something calculating, almost shrewd, in the way his asymmetrical eyes gazed at Hux when he gave the command.

Ren pushed forward, suddenly anxious. Hux lifted a brow, seeing something almost panicked in Ren’s eyes when he mentioned destroying the Resistance base.

“Supreme Leader, I can get the map from the girl. I just need your guidance.”

Hux snorted under his breath and left the room. He said nothing to Ren, simply leaving and closing off his mind once again. Ren flinched internally.

“If what you say about this girl is true, bring her to me,” Snoke growled slowly.

Ren bowed his head, and followed after Hux, heading to the cell where his prisoner was kept. Along the way, he slipped the helmet back on- not that it could undo what he’d already done.

He felt something was off as soon as he got to the room. He opened the door to find the table was empty, the restraints open.

Rage exploded within him, rage and panic, because not only had he failed to get the map, lost the droid and hurt the one person who might actually care about him, but now, his mistake was running loose in the base, and the two most powerful people in the First Order were going to be furious at this slip up.

“No… no… NOO!” he pleaded softly- to who, he didn’t know- then his plea turned into a roar. Pulling out his weapon and with the fury of a tornado with teeth, he began to tear the room apart panel by panel, sparks and heated bits of metal flying everywhere.

In the hallway, two stormtroopers approached with a mix of curiosity and concern. When they caught glimpse of the rampaging Ren, they both back up a few steps, then made a hurried about-face and scurried away. Neither one wanted to be the first thing Ren saw outside the door.

Up on the command deck, Hux ordered for the weapon to prepare charging. The techs set the sequence, and the Starkiller base began gathering energy, stockpiling for when it would fire, and destroy the Ileenium system.

Ren continued to rampage, hearing Hux’s command in his head, and gave himself over to his fury, his anxiety, and his guilt, slipping into a haze of red and black as he tore apart the interrogation cell.

It wasn’t just Hux he suddenly worried about.

A small voice in the very back of his head whispered at him, tugged at him, and he couldn’t get it to go away, even when he shoved it in the locked partition. The small voice came from under the door, a child’s voice, plaintive and worried.

_You can’t let her die!_

“ _ **SHUT UP**_!” Ren roared, and continued his tirade of destruction.

* * *

“What do you mean _she escaped_?” Hux asked quietly, his voice deadly serious.

Ren looked up from the trooper he’d been questioning, seeing Hux in the doorway. The look on his face was thunderous, and frankly, it was frightening. It was the first time such a murderous look had been aimed at him, and Ren could understand now why when people talked about Hux, they described him as “General, 35, scary.”

Even when he’d ripped the throat out of an enemy, Ren had never seen Hux quite so frightening.

“She used the Force to manipulate the guard into letting her go,” he replied, keeping his voice even.

“And into leaving his weapon, I see,” Hux said acidly, his eyes falling to the weaponless trooper.

“My apologies, General, she told me I would do it, so I came closer to tell her I’d tighten the restraints and gag her if she didn’t shut it. The next thing I knew, I woke up in my barracks without my blaster rifle,” the trooper said, his face pale, sweat beading on his forehead.

To Ren’s surprise, the General’s face actually softened.

“The Force is an anomaly, Trooper. A twisted corruption that manipulates and usurps the natural order of things. It isn’t your fault.”

Ren flinched as if scalded by Hux’s words, and his temper flared.

“It even catches people like Kylo Ren by surprise in how it can turn against anyone,” Hux continued.”No one can truly be blamed when something uncontrollable and unpredictable turns on you.”

His eyes met Ren’s, and Ren felt something twist in his stomach. What was Hux getting at?

“Sir!” called a trooper. “Sensors triggered in Hangar 718. We’re searching the area.”

Ren turned to her.

“She’s only now testing her abilities. The longer it takes to find her, the more dangerous she becomes,” he said, and Hux let the corner of his mouth curl a bit- in satisfaction perhaps?

“Put every hangar on lockdown. She’ll likely try to steal a ship to esc-”

His helmeted face turned like a hound catching a scent, cutting himself off. Hux followed his gaze, but saw nothing. He frowned.

“Han Solo,” Ren murmured, and turning on his heel, he stormed off like a roiling tempest.

Hux blinked. What on earth did _Han Solo_ have to do with anything going on right now?

“General, thirty minutes to charge,” came an officer’s voice over the comm.

Hux acknowledged, and headed back to the command deck. He had more important things to do, like blowing up a planet full of rebels.

And seeing if his suspicions were correct.

* * *

Phasma made her rounds as ordered. She didn’t like it, and she didn’t like what was likely going to happen, but she trusted Hux- and more importantly, she didn’t trust Snoke.

Snoke was a mystical figure who ruled from the shadows with threats of using the Force, of corrupting with abilities unseen, and from what Phasma had seen, the bulk of the First Order’s accomplishments had come from her training of the troopers, and Hux’s leadership.

So when Hux had told her of his suspicions of what might happen, she said she would comply with his plan. She had told him she didn’t like it, but she would do it. Because she trusted him, and for the most part, their plans aligned, and their alliance was airtight. He had yet to do anything that she deemed beneath her, and his goals had always been in line with hers. She’d killed for him, and he’d given her access to those who had needed to be killed for her own security.

Phasma had never had close friends, not on Parnassos, certainly not in the Troopers, and most definitely not in Brendol Hux. They were all means to an end, steps on the way to power and freedom. However, she considered Armitage Hux as clever, ruthless and sly as one could hope an ally would be. She liked him, and trusted him. He was the closest to a friend she’d ever had, save for Maetra.

A smile formed over her lips under the helmet. Maetra. There was no denying she loved that woman. Her violent, bloodthirsty, ambitious and conniving Maetra, the best pilot in the First Order.

It was for Maetra she agreed to Hux’s plan.

The insurgency was expected. The form it took, however, was not. Which was why Phasma found herself caught off guard and the wind knocked out of her as a Wookiee- a _Wookiee_ , of all things- tackled her and got her in a vice grip.

She also didn’t expect to see the face of the bug in the system again.

“FN-2187,” she said flatly.

“Not anymore,” he said defiantly, looking up into her helmeted visage. “My name’s Finn and I’m in charge. _I’m_ in charge now, Phasma.”

The scruffy looking older man with him laid a hand on his shoulder, and the Wookiee kept a firm grip on hers.

“Easy, kid. Bring it down.”

FN-2187- Finn- immediately sobered.

“You’re coming with us.”

They led her to the planetary shields. Of course they did. Hux had told her that should the Resistance manage to get to the base, they’d try to bring the shields down so their fleet could attack, as pitiful as it was. He’d told her to bluff her way out if she could, but in no circumstances was she to go down to keep the shields up.

“Something is happening, Phasma. Something with Snoke. I don’t know what it is, but this Skywalker business, this Force and Jedi nonsense is bringing him to the edge of madness.”

“And?” She was blunt about how little she cared about Snoke and his mystical nonsense.

“Because he sees people like you and me as expendable. He ignored security flaws I brought forward to him- one of which is a secondary code or personnel needed to lower the shields instead of the singular authorisation currently in place. There’s also the fact that half the ships were pulled out of orbit from Starkiller.”

There was no fanaticism in his eyes, and his tone was even, collected and calm. This hadn’t been the ramblings of a paranoid conspiracy theorist, but the conclusions of a man trying to keep control of his investments.

“The base has been made vulnerable, and I fully expect that there will be a cataclysm in the future that will be an attempt at removing us both to clear the way for whatever his plans are. I will need you, Phasma. I cannot afford to lose you. If something happens, I want you to stand down so you aren’t killed.”

“You expect me not to fight?” She’d asked in disbelief. Hux had levelled his gaze at her.

“No. I expect you to not be a martyr.”

Phasma had snorted under her helmet, bringing a sardonic smile to Hux’s face.

“I never was, Hux, and I never will be.”

She complied, but offered just right amount of verbal resistance. She lowered the shields, and prepared to fight for her life. However, she found herself suffering the worst of indignities.

They dumped her in the garbage compactor.

“Armitage Hux, this had better be worth it,” she growled as she began to fight her way out- only to find she had a new task all her own.

An officer had proof she’d lowered the shields.

Like the apex predator she was, Phasma took off in pursuit of the Lieutenant and the proof they held of her treason- and Hux’s contingency. She hadn’t been accosted by a Wookiee, listened to a traitor insult her, and dumped in a trash compactor for nothing.

* * *

Hux snarled as the report came in that the planetary shield controls had been destroyed, and shortly thereafter, a squadron of X-Wings came barrelling into atmo and charged overhead. He took a brief moment to run through the reports- to calm himself, and to assess the damage- and saw exactly what he’d thought he’d see.

A speeder stolen. A remote access point sliced. Intruder warnings near the oscillator- through the entrances that had not been sealed with grates.

The minute tedium that Hux had presented as flaws in need of fixing were turning out as deadly as he’d thought. Where was Snoke’s all-seeing Force abilities? Why had his all-powerful Force not foreseen such a turn of events?

Unless he wanted Starkiller Base to fall, and take down a good third of the First Order with it- that third being those handpicked by, and therefore loyal, to Hux himself. Unless he wanted to make Hux a Tarkin.

Armitage Hux had no intention of becoming a footnote in his own life.

“Scramble all squadrons,” he snapped to control before looking at the X-Wings’ trajectory again, feeling his blood go cold.

They were headed for the oscillator.

“Send out the seekers,” he added.

“But sir, the collateral damage-”

He whirled on the officer.

“Did I misspeak, Lieutenant?” he asked quietly, his voice smooth and cold, his eyes narrowed. The officer swallowed visibly.

“N-no, General. Sending out the Seekers!”

Hux turned back to the viewport. He had faith in his squadrons, and they knew the risk as TIE pilots. Protecting the base from utter destruction was paramount. Not that they would achieve that goal- Hux was certain Snoke had made sure of this.

And Ren was off chasing a scavenger. Knowing Ren wasn’t with him by choice in all this hurt more than he cared to admit, and he cursed himself for being weak and becoming dependant and involved with him. It figured the man would chase after Force nonsense and inappropriate details when everything else was in danger of falling apart. His teeth ground together in a squeal of enamel on enamel, muffled behind his closed lips.

He’d truly made a mistake hoping that he could count on Ren being at his side.

 _Figure out where your loyalty lies_ , he growled over their connection.

* * *

Maetra and Dash leapt into their TIE, the rest of Alpha Squadron following suit. The other squadrons were right behind them, including the new- and hopefully improved- Gamma Squadron.

Dash gaped, his helmet still off.

“They sent out the Seekers, Mae!”

Mae’s face went grim, but she nodded, prepping their ship.

“Looks like all bets are off, then,” she said, pulling a cylindrical object from her bag and strapping it to her thigh. Dash gave her a plaintive look as he saw the lightsaber. There’d be no use for it in the TIE, but if it came to a ground fight- or if Ren called her to him, she’d need it in easy reach.

“So you’re all going active, then?”

“No choice, if we want the leadership to perform at peak. That means you, too, Dash. No more holding back,” Mae said softly.

Maetra’s face went calm, focused, and a new glint shone in her eyes. Dash looked at his younger sister and felt a wave of nerves- and pride.

“Do you think Hux would have changed his mind about you if he knew you were a Knight of Ren?” he asked.

“I think he would have been amazed that there were more of us hiding in the ranks that _weren’t_ trailing dirt all over the Finalizer,” she joked half-heartedly. “Though given his current altercation with Ren… I think maybe he might be disinclined to trust me. He seems to be very distrustful of the Force as of late.”

“You can’t change who- or what- you are,” Dash put in. Maetra shot him a meaningful look.

“Same goes for you, Dash.”

She keyed up a special comm link and hesitated.

“Hux sent out Seekers. Three are going into the dog fight. Activate or stay asleep, please advise,” she asked finally as the TIE’s telltales all went green.

Kylo Ren’s voice came back over the comm link.

“All Knights of Ren in the dogfight, go active. Do not hold back. Seek and destroy the Resistance scum,” he growled.

Maetra cut off the comm and shoved her helmet on. Grabbing the yoke, she sent their ship into the frenzied melee, the squadron leaders of Zeta and Omega hot on her trail. Dash made an unhappy sound in his throat.

“They’ll feel it, Mae,” he said quietly. He had been worried about his sister becoming a Knight of Ren, but he was worried he’d be recruited- then disposed of for not being strong enough in the Force. As a result, his own limited abilities were often unused in order to hide behind his sister’s more unmistakable presence.

“They’ll feel _me_ ,” she replied. “Just do what you do best, and feel the target. Let me, Zeta and Omega take care of the rest.”

With that, they zeroed in on their targets, the three Knights of Ren leading the squadrons into the dogfight over the oscillator.

* * *

Ren could feel the chaos above him as he searched the structures of the oscillator, the widening of pinpoints in the Force blossoming into bright lights as his sleeper Knights cast off their roles as simple TIE pilots and Trooper Commanders and took control. He could sense the TIE fighters careening through the cloud of Seekers, the X-Wings doing more evasive than offencive manoeuvres. There was death and destruction in the air above him and for a moment, it was delicious.

He looked back down and across the catwalks, making his way across the main walkway over the abyss of the planet’s core. He knew his father was in there somewhere. The Wookiee, too. He practically _smell_ the latter.

_Warm, furry arms enveloping him in a safe hug before tossing him **high** in the air, eliciting shrieks of laughter, cries of pure delight as he soared through the air, went into a free-fall, and was caught safely in strong hands that could bend durasteel, but were tender as could be with the five year old child. _

_“Oh, Chewie, do be careful, he just ate!”_

_“Don’t worry about him, Leia, he’s getting an iron stomach so he can handle the paces we put the Falcon through! He’s gonna be right at home in the cockpit while we go spinning through space. Aren’t you, kid?”_

“BEN!”

He stopped, the sound of his boots echoing in the vast space. He hadn’t heard that voice in decades.

He turned and faced the older man in that damned leather jacket, the same one he’d seen since he was a boy. The same careless hair, gone white and grey. The eyes still sharp and wary as he’d ever seen them. The cocky half smile was gone, replaced by something that hovered between loss and regret.

Kylo Ren looked at Han Solo across the walkway, and felt the years stretch between himself and his father.

“Han Solo,” he said simply.

The smuggler started towards him. Above and behind them both, a door opened, spilling light in from the outside, the beam falling over where he stood, where Solo approached. The light was waning as the weapon gathered more dark energy into its core.

How appropriate, it seemed, that bathed in waning light, in an atmosphere being slowly choked with death, dark energy and chaos, that he would finally cut one of the remaining ties to his past. A tie to the Light. A final obstacle that would be so easy to overcome.

He glanced up at the open door and saw the traitor and the scavenger. Just below them was the Wookiee. His troopers were filed along the sides, frozen without the order to give fire, and unsure if they should even move.

“Take off that mask, you don’t need it,” Solo said.

Ren barked a laugh that rang hollow inside his mask and seemed to reverberate in his ears- his own laughter, mocking him.

“What do you think you’ll see, old man?” he challenged.

“The face of my son,” the smuggler replied.

Ren considered a moment, then decided to honour the man’s request. He took off his mask, and the hard look on the smuggler’s face turned to that of shock, longing, recognition, and sadness. The look of a father seeing the man his son had become for the first time in sixteen years.

The expression on Han Solo’s face hit hard and low. He thought he’d moved past the longing of family, of missing them. But here he was, being called son by his father, after everything.

It was undoing everything he’d tried to become.

“Your son. Is _dead_ ,” he hissed, setting the mask down on the catwalk. “He was weak, foolish, and pathetic. He was destroyed a long time ago to make me better, stronger.”

“You’re wrong,” Solo said softly, now a few feet away. “I know you’re in there, Ben. If you’re anything like your mother, you’re in there.”

That bastard, bringing up his mother of all people. The woman in charge of everything he was fighting against. How dare he say he was anything like her?

The soft small voice behind the locked door made a tiny wail at the mention of his mother.

“No, I am perfected,” he said, and his throat felt odd as he made the words- too tight, as though he’d swallowed clay.

“That’s what Snoke wants you to believe, but you know he’s just using you for your powers, and once he gets all he can get from you, he’ll toss you aside, crush you,” Solo insisted. He was now a mere three feet away, and Ren could see the lines in his face. A lifetime of worry, joy, trials and celebration.

“It’s too late,” Ren lied.

“No. It’s not. Come home, Ben. Your mother misses you.”

He felt something tug, something pull at him, and he knew what it was. The weakness Snoke had spoken of. The tenderness in the aftercare Hux had shown him after he’d submitted to the General’s demands. The moment of panic when the ship exploded around him and he’d protected himself- protected Hux- so they’d survive the crash. The ferocious protectiveness he’d felt during the attempt on Hux’s life. The trust he had shown in the man during that assault at the safe house. Even the time he’d been blackmailed into caring for the man during the time his leg was broken.

It was the boy he had locked in the partitioned section of his mind that still wanted to see his mother.

It was the man who had learned submitting was not weakness, and that being someone else’s could be a form of safety.

There was light in him, but not entirely where Han Solo believed it to be, and not from the origin he hoped. His father’s words were only tugging harder on that side of him. That weakness. That odd, unexpected strength. The small, scared boy in the dark.

And it hurt.

“I’m being torn apart,” he said, his voice choking. “I want to be free of this pain.”

A long pause. Perhaps, if he killed this man, the tie to the light, he would be able to say no to the other, gain clarity on what he needed to be free of the confusion in his head.

“I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it. Will you help me?”

“Anything,” his father promised, and Ren believed that Han Solo would have tried to move the galaxy for him, if he’d only ask, and that raw, unfiltered promise, the need to right so many wrongs, the desire to help the only son he had, only cut Ren deeper, and struck pain into the locked room where the small boy cried.

The light dimmed overhead, casting the path in shadow as the last bits of dark energy were absorbed into the core of the weapon as Kylo Ren pressed his lightsaber into Han Solo’s hand. The smuggler’s fingers curled around the hilt, and he attempted to pull it away.

The darkness filled with red light abruptly as Ren ignited the blade, sending it piercing through Han Solo’s chest, and causing a look of shock and pain to transform the features of the smuggler.

“Thank you,” Ren said to the man.

There was no betrayal in his expression. No rage, no indignation of a lifetime of surviving insurmountable odds cut short by trusting too much. There was only pain, and sadness- at himself for failing his son. Han Solo said nothing, his wet eyes fixed on his son’s as he reached up and cupped the side of his face with a weathered hand before slumping. Ren closed off his weapon and let the body fall to the side and into the planet’s core.

He waited.

The darkness didn’t come. It didn’t envelop him, didn’t finish what it had started so many years ago. Only a sudden flare of pain came across the Force as the loss hit him. His eyes widened as he felt- and almost heard- the cry of broken-hearted pain through the Force. A singular cry that pierced his heart as surely as he had pierced Han Solo’s with his lightsaber.

His mother.

Himself.

He felt the boy in the locked room double over and go silent. Whether he’d killed that part of himself, he couldn’t say, but he was split in two from the mental and emotional pain, the injury that came from the boy seeing what he’d become kill the father he’d loved.

It was so odd, disorienting, to be inside, yet outside, apart and entwined with himself, and someone whom he’d ceased to be so long ago.

There was a howl from the Wookiee, a shout from the traitor, and a cry of agony from the scavenger, and then a scream of pain as the bowcaster was fired. Ren had barely a split second to brace himself with the Force, preventing the weapon from gutting him, instead opening a wound in his side that tore a chunk out of his waist. He doubled over with pain, and his eyes met those of the traitor and the scavenger as he looked up.

He didn’t look away as he pounded his fist into his wound, blood splattering and spraying, the pain giving him rage and fuelling his anger, his power. The look of horror on both of their faces before they turned and fled as the troopers finally moved into action was all the encouragement he needed.

Lurching forward, pushing all thoughts of light, dark, his mother and Hux from his mind, Kylo Ren made his way after his targets like a vornskr on the scent, following the two bright sparks in the Force that was the traitor and the scavenger.

* * *

Hux watched in horror as the oscillator exploded, and the command deck erupted into sirens of failsafes failing, containment shields being breached, and dark energy rupturing the fuel cells.

He’d suspected this was going to be the end result. The proof was irrefutable to anyone willing to look. He’d seen it coming, but he still wasn’t prepared for the scope of the loss. Too many people were going to die, too many to evacuate quickly enough, too many resources wasted.

And most, if not all of them, were those most loyal to him. A purposeful culling had been started, under the guise of failure on his part. The perfect picture painted by a treacherous hand.

He backed up slowly, his officers too distracted at the chaos happening to notice his retreat. Once the doors were closed behind him, he all but fled to the assembly chamber to tell Snoke. He bit back his desire to call the monster out on his sabotage, to challenge the creature’s reasoning for not following through on the “minute tedium,” but his instinct to survive was stronger than his spite.

It always had been, and it was why he had survived, why he had the position he did at his age, and it was why he would not die this day.

The Supreme Leader’s image formed as soon as he stepped through the door, and he nearly fell as the planet buckled and shook around him.

“Supreme Leader, the insurgents have breached the oscillator. The fuel cells are rupturing, the collapse of the planet has begun. Ren is somewhere out there, chasing the scavenger,” he said, waiting for the whiplash. Snoke stared at him, those misshapen eyes cold- possibly disappointed that Hux was alive, and grudgingly accepting that the man he wanted dead was the only hope for his apprentice’s survival.

“Go. Evacuate the base at once and bring Kylo Ren to me,” Snoke finally ordered, then his image cut out.

Hux mandated the evacuation over the comm.

“All personnel, evacuate at once. I repeat, evacuate the base at once,” he commanded as he ran from the chamber.

He made one stop, at his quarters, where a bewildered ysalamir blinked four eyes at him.

"Time to go, Millicent," he said, grabbing the frame and hoisting it over his shoulders. He felt foolish, stopping to get an animal as his work fell apart around him, but he had grown fond of her. She was important.

As was the collar he snatched off his beside table.

Hux fled with as much speed as he was capable of toward the hangar where Ren’s shuttle hopefully waited. 

It did, but the rest of the hangar was practically empty, the other shuttles and TIEs long gone. Hux ordered a pair of troopers into the shuttle, and it took off like a great black bird through the sky.

Hux removed the nutrient frame and set it as far back in the shuttle as possible, making sure it didn't fall over. He'd need Ren to have some breathing space away from the bubble of the ysalamir if he could provide it.

He pulled out his locater, directing the pilot to the signal coming from Ren’s tracking device. It was deep in the woods, and he worried he wouldn’t reach him in time. Despite everything, he couldn’t leave Ren behind. Not only would it hurt, but Snoke would kill him. Ren’s survival was tied with his own.

“We have a visual on him, General!” called the trooper, bringing the shuttle down.

Hux ran down the ramp as soon as it was down. The planet lurched again, and a tree toppled over. Hux barely avoided being smashed, slipping in the snow and rolling to get out of the way, busting his lip on a rock for his troubles. He stood again, knees shaking, blood dripping from his mouth as he made his way towards the prone form of Kylo Ren.

He froze. Ren, the snow, his busted lip. The trees backlit with the glow of destruction. The dream he’d had…. He’d seen this happen, had known in a way, that it was going to happen. He knew now, in some odd way, that he’d survive a bit longer than the next few days. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough.

Provided Ren was still alive.

“Ren, you had better not be dead, or Snoke will kill me,” he growled, slipping an arm under the larger man’s torso and lifting him up. Ren’s eyes were closed, a hellacious gash over his face, his shoulder, and a very bad wound on his side had formed a puddle of blood under his hips.

“Ren!” Hux barked, shaking him a bit. The man didn’t respond.

“Get him to the shuttle!” Hux shouted at the troopers as they finally caught up, stumbling and falling as the planet rocked under them. The two men picked up the unconscious Knight and managed to get him to the shuttle, resting him on the floor. Hux immediately shooed them away to the cockpit.

“Get us out of here!” he snapped, shutting the cockpit door before he bent over Ren.

“Ren, you had better not die on me,” he said, all the exhaustion, all the rage, the impotent fury boiling over. “You are not allowed to die, do you hear me?”

Ren didn’t respond.

Alone in the shuttle, his troopers in the cockpit, Hux got to his knees and pressed his split lips to Ren’s mouth. His breath shook, and his gut twisted before something gave way, and his heart ached in fear.

He didn’t want this man to die.

“Don’t you die on me, Kylo,” he whispered. “I forbid it. Do you hear me?”

He kissed Ren again, fingers running through Ren’s sweat, blood and snow damp hair. A few flakes still clung to the dark waves, melting as Hux’s black leather gloves brushed them. He took off his coat and used it to support Ren’s head.

“You are not allowed to die. I forbid it,” he repeated.

He leaned over him, pressing his forehead to Ren’s, their noses brushing. Hux could feel Ren’s ragged, hot breath issuing from his bloody lips against his own. He cradled Ren’s head in his hands. It was hitting him that his world was not just power and conquest.

“I love you, Kylo Ren,” he murmured, the words slipping out before the realisation even dawned on him.

He was silent a moment as the words sank in, words he’d said but hadn’t quite registered. His breath shook, his limbs trembled, and he bent low, kissing the silent man again.

“I love you and you are not allowed to die.”

He reached down and took Kylo’s hand. He felt his heart jolt as the hand squeezed back, even if weakly. He looked to Kylo’s face, and saw the brown eyes crack open.

“I won’t,” he croaked. “I promise.”

Hux let out a shaky breath and kissed him again, feeling the pull of the ship as it leapt to hyperspace, bringing them back to the fleet, to the _Supremacy_. Weakly, Kylo kissed him back, prodding at their connection.

Hux let it open wide, and the relief that flooded them both was overwhelming. Hux leaned back, moving to a sitting position on the floor to let Kylo rest his head in his lap. He covered Kylo with his blood stained coat and cradled his lover carefully.

 _I love you, too_ , Kylo replied, closing his eyes again. He was weak and exhausted, but alive.

“I’ll have you know right now I also hate you,” Hux groused, pushing wet hair behind Kylo’s ears. There was no venom in his words. Kylo didn’t even attempt to laugh, but his mental smile was warm, albeit unsure of himself. It was a new sensation, a new feeling, hearing those words from Hux, from himself.

_I can feel the ysalamir. You saved it?_

_Of course I did. We need it._

Hux smiled to himself and leaned against the bulkhead. He lit a cigarra and enjoyed the familiar burn, feeling Kylo’s weight in his lap. His smile faded a bit, then, and his eyes narrowed.

So much had been destroyed. So much had been called into question. His loyalty. Kylo’s loyalty. Phasma’s loyalty- if she was even alive. What he wanted. What his long term plans were. What was going to happen between himself and Kylo. What his legacy was. What the Ascendancy would think of all that had happened.

What Snoke would do because of all that had happened- and what _hadn’t_ happened.

 _What did it feel like?_ Kylo asked, bringing Hux out of his thoughts.

 _What did what feel like?_ Hux replied.

_When you killed your father. What did it feel like?_

_Freeing._ Hux was blunt. _It felt freeing, but my father was abusive, hateful._

_I killed him, Armitage. It wasn’t freeing._

_Who?_

_My father. Snoke told me I would be free of the Light if I killed him, but I feel worse than before. I feel like I’ve been ripped in two. Like I killed a part of myself that wasn’t ready to die, something vital._

Hux was silent. Snoke had tried to kill his mothers, and had told Kylo to kill his father. Snoke was trying to make them cut off from anything that wasn’t him, to isolate them. Trying to make them dependent on him.

Hux, however, was not as unstable as Kylo, which was why Hux was in a much more precarious situation. Why there was the assassination attempt, and likely would be another one. Kylo, however, was weak and vulnerable, mentally, easy to manipulate. Whatever past he had, Hux didn’t know, but he was determined to work to protect him. He wouldn’t let Snoke isolate Kylo anymore.

 _So that’s what you meant when you randomly went chasing after Han Solo earlier_ , Hux commented.

Kylo didn’t reply for a long moment, clearly mulling on something else.

_I heard something, while I was down._

_What?_

_A voice. It was talking to the scavenger. She was circling me while I was down, and something whispered ‘It would be so easy,’ referring to killing me, to finishing me off. But she recoiled._

Hux was silent. He wouldn’t let his feelings show on the matter, or reflect what he thought.

 _I think it was Snoke_ , Kylo said. _Armitage, I failed him, so he tried to seduce her to the Dark side, to have her finish me off because I failed him. But she escaped._

He paused.

_My punishment will be grave, Armitage. Will you…. Will you help me when I … if I return?_

_You know I will_ , Hux said, gripping Kylo’s hand tightly. _You know I will. And you had better, or so help me, I will kill Snoke myself._

He knew where his loyalties lie.

With the Order. With his family. With Kylo.

Snoke was not in that picture. He was a threat, and he’d actively gone after what Hux considered his. Even a Chiss who followed the no pre-emptive strike doctrine to the letter would find that reason to go after that thing.

 _You won’t have to_ , Kylo told him. _Something tells me this will… play out, somehow._

 _The Force?_ Hux’s reply was devoid of his usual sarcasm- if Kylo was actually having hunches about the future against Snoke, that truly meant something.

 _What else?_ His reply was sarcastic amusement. He winced, pain shooting through his wounds, and Hux shushed him, stroking his hair.

_This will play out. I don’t know how, but it will. But we have to be strong, you and I. He won’t be happy with either of us._

_No, the loss of the base was a blow. Once I get you to the med bay, I am organising the fleet to find the Resistance to cut them off before they escape._

Kylo said nothing to that, his eyes closing again.

“I’m with you,” he murmured, feeling Hux’s worry.

“Are you?” Hux asked.

“You told me to figure it out, and I did,” Kylo replied.

He reached up and flicked the cigarra out of Hux’s mouth before tugging him down for a breathless kiss that pulled the smoke from Hux’s lungs into his own before it curled between their mouths and dissipated into the air.

As if he knew, Ren slid his hand into Hux's pocket and curled his fingers around the collar tucked away inside it. The metal of the locking buckle clicked under the thick gaberwool of Hux's coat. 

_My loyalty is to you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoyed. This is a labour of love, and while I made SOME attempts at being canon "compliant," I am not doing so with the sequel. 
> 
> I had originally thought to do two sequels- one that was only slightly canon divergent that was a "Fix it" fic to give Hux and Kylo a better death, and another to write whatever the hell I wanted, but decided against it.
> 
> It's too much to separate two diametrically opposed fics, and I am not of the mindset for writing misery with no happy ending. SO, the sequel, Treason, is fix it/canon defiant, and no one dies, there's no weird plot snags, and while it won't be an ideal "everyone forgives everyone" ending, it'll be better and fluffier than RoS. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading.


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